Wheel of time
by Shall be in water writ
Summary: AU, Time Travel. Curiosity killed the cat. She should have known better than to meddle with magic of that sort. After all, Voldemort had destroyed himself in his pursuit of immortality, and meddling with time, well, that was a sort of immortality, wasn't it?
1. Seduced

**_My own twist on the whole travel back in time idea. Hermione is the main protagonist, naturally. _**

_Making a horcrux does more than grant immortality to the owner. It destroys them utterly and completely. The act of splitting it causes irreparable damage to the maker, taking away a part of that person's identity. The soul is unquantifiable, inexplicable and unpredictable. In other words, it is impossible to predict what would happen if one were to mess about when the soul is concerned. Some magics should never be played around with. Voldemort made seven horcruxes. The diary. Slytherin's locket. Hufflepuff's cup. Ravenclaw's diadem. His familiar. The resurrection ring. And his arch-nemesis, Harry Potter. To destroy him, it would require the destruction of each artifact, by no means an easy task. Insane as he was, in the matters of magic, few rivaled his strength and wisdom. Sadly, his insanity only got worse after he created his last horcrux with Nagini, his familiar. What had started as a radical political movement quickly degenerated to petty terrorism and arbitrary violence. Even his followers began to second guess his motives._

_The civil war that erupted quickly divided the magical world and within three years, spiraled out of control. The Ministry of Magic had long been compromised and had very quickly been destroyed. A massive fight resulted in the complete and utter destruction of the government. Now, the MoM was a ruin, testament to the sheer power of the Dark Lord. In the absence of a government, Magical Britain descended into anarchy. Multiple factions stepped forward to take control of the power gap after the fall of MoM, but two factions in particular came into power. The followers of Lord Voldemort, who stylized themselves as Death Eaters and the Order of the Phoenix, under the leadership of the golden trio, Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger. Surprisingly, the issue of blood supremacy was quickly abandoned. There was certainly differing opinions on the matter, but in a war such as this, neither faction could afford to use that as a rallying point. The Order of the Phoenix never had that to begin with, but the pureblooded faction of the Death Eaters had dwindled to a few handful. Muggleborns, toward the end of the war, outnumbered the purebloods seventeen to one. Entire families had been eradicated, some names lost to the annals of history and memory. As if this was not bad enough, without the presence of a unified government, several magical species began to make a bid for their independence. The goblins were by far among the most dangerous as despite their lack of magic, they more than made up for it by hiring several of the smaller mercenary factions that formed during the war as bodyguards and soldiers. _

_Despite all this, the Order of the Phoenix was slowly winning. They had the numbers advantage and a solid leadership that did not oppress and torture its members. Eventually, all six of the horcruxes were destroyed and only Harry remained. Hermione and Ron, the only others who knew of this argued and bickered to reach a satisfying conclusion. Despite Hermione's bid for time to research a counter to this magic, Harry and Ron went ahead with a daring gambit. They lured Voldemort into Hogwarts by using their double agent and ambushed him. Harry let himself die, believing in his two friends to finish a weakened Voldemort who had no idea he no longer had the protection of his horcruxes. _

_Out of the three, Harry had always been the most powerful, but it had been Hermione who was the strongest. So it was with little surprise that she dealt the killing blow. The fight with Voldemort was anti-climatic to say the least._

_There was no gloating between the three remaining fighters. This fight had been fought over and over and by now there was very little that had not already been said before. Ecstatic at his victory, Voldemort barely put up a resistance. Ron and Hermione hammered away at the weakened Dark Lord who thought his horcruxes would keep him alive. When Hermione's killing curse finally connected, he died without ever knowing he no longer had any soul anchors left in the world. At last. It was over. _

_Could they really claim victory? Hogwarts had been ripped apart from the fight and the magical community essentially no longer existed. Any method of detecting and tracking muggleborn wizards and witches had disappeared along with the MoM. Communication was difficult, everyone was in hiding and there was no method of open communication. It would be years before people came out, and even then it was nigh impossible to gather them together. Even worse, hundreds of years worth of knowledge was lost. The two major archives in all of Magical Britain had been burned down and destroyed. Wizarding Britain was once again in the dark ages. _

"This is ridiculous. What are we hoping to find in the rubble?" Ron spat angrily on the ground. Hermione narrowed her eyes in annoyance. "Anything that will help us rebuild. Books. Letters. Hell, even an official ministry order would be nice."

Ron scowled back, but there was hardly any real malice behind it. He was simply used to scowling, even when there was nothing really to scowl at. "I know. I just think we should be cleaning up the other factions right now."

Hermione's expression became stony as she stopped levitating stones. "Are you so eager to jump back into war again?"

Ron winced at her flat tone and quickly raised a hand in defense. "You know that's not what I mean." He sighed as she continued to stare at him. "I'm just not used to this. Half of me doesn't even believe that he's… actually dead."

Hermione froze. Ron instantly paled in realization and slowly backed away. She was mad. The type of mad that meant you were going to get hurt soon.

"Why?" She asked slowly. The calm before the storm. "Mione," Ron pleaded. "How could the two of you go behind my back." As she stalked over to him angrily, Ron cursed Harry for putting him in this situation.

_"She's going to kill us." Ron remarked as he leaned against the wall. Harry chuckled and brushed his hand along the scar that ran up the side of his face. "Just you, I'm afraid. If all works accordingly, he'll be mortal, trapped and weakened. And I'll be … going ahead."_

_"You don't have to do it this way. We can figure something out. Hermione said she would research how to take a horcrux out of its vessel…" He was interrupted as Harry snarled out his objection. _

_"No! We both know how dangerous this magic is. She's brilliant, but some things should never be studied. I cannot live with myself if she gets injured studying this magic… or worse." Ron sighed in annoyance. "What if we try to trap him? Contain his soul shard and bind it…" He broke off as he realized the implications of trapping a soul shard. What kind of payment would be required? "At least tell her our plan." Ron acceded the point._

_"No. She'd just try and study the magic in secret. You know how she is." Harry's eyes were cold. "Promise me you won't tell her. I won't risk losing her over this." _

_Ron swallowed hard, wanting to tell his best friend that Hermione harbored feelings for him, but too scared to. "I… I promise." He muttered at last. _

_Harry smiled softly. "Soon. This will all be over." _

Ron felt his chest tighten as he realized Hermione was sobbing. She wailed into his chest, hammering her fist into him and he felt every blow like a cannonball to the stomach. "I'm so sorry Mione. I'm so sorry." He whispered, holding on to her tightly.

"I… I could have … found another way." She sniffled. "All I needed was time. I could have made a receptacle and trapped Voldermort." She was talking fast, mind racing and Ron felt his stomach plummet. "No! You can't." He said firmly. "Some magics are never meant to be played around with. Harry and I both agreed it was too dangerous."

Hermione snarled at him, pushing him away. "What a pair of hypocrites. Willing to sacrifice yourselves, but won't even acknowledge I'm willing to do the same." She was shouting now, all the while tears flowed from her eyes.

Ron was staunch and resolute, bearing her anger like a stone statue. "I'd live with being a hypocrite if it meant it kept you safe. Harry would too."

"You don't get to make that choice for me." She yelled at him. Ron felt like he was being torn apart. She must have seen something in his face because she abruptly stopped.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to take my anger out on you." She said softly, slumping and sitting on a nearby piece of broken stone. "I just wish we had more time to find a solution. I am hurt that you guys went behind my back, but… but… now he's dead. I didn't even… even tell him..." She trailed off abruptly. "Let's get back to clearing this out. Maybe we'll find something useful."

"Hermione." She looked back at him, expression softening at his pained look. "I'm sorry."

"I know." She said after a long pause. She flicked her wand and vanished a portion of the debris, "I would have done the same in your shoes."

As they headed back to their headquarters to break the news to what was left of the Order of the Phoenix, Hermione fingered Harry's wand in her pocket. Ron hadn't known the lore of the Deathly Hallows, so he had no idea that they were in possession of the remaining two. Only Dumbledore, Harry and herself knew what it was and she was going to keep it that way. With Voldemort's death, there was now only one person in the world who knew what the wand was. She knew that she should destroy it, but the allure of the wand made her hesitate. She wasn't interested in power, and knowing that the wand amplified certain spells to a degree made it a useful tool, but all she wanted was to know how it was made. Along with the invisibility cloak and resurrection stone, they were magnificent pieces of magic. If she could somehow figure out how they were made, she could create an artifact to rival them. She shivered at the possibilities and took her hand away from the wand. Later. After they cleaned up and rebuilt their small community. She tucked the wand away and smiled as Ron quirked an eyebrow at her unusual silence.

"Let's go break the news to the others." Her smile was bittersweet.

_The wand was a magnificent artifact. It did more than just amplify magic as she had initially presumed, it enhanced the spell as well. In any spell, knowledge of what was being cast was required. If you cast the killing curse but thought it was a cheering charm, the curse would completely fail. Not so with the Elder Wand. The deathstick actually negated the need for knowledge of the spell. In the hands of a first year, it would cast the killing curse as long as the wand technique and intonation were correct. It also meant that the caster could use any spell in any field of magic without suffering any loss in power. _

_At first, she had been ecstatic at possessing a wand that enabled her to cast anything she wanted without having to have mastered the spell at all. As long as she knew how, she could. Then she realized what it meant. A killing curse could only be cast if you knew what it did, so for the wand to be able to circumvent the caster's lack of knowledge, it would have to know that the curse it was using was the killing curse. In other words, the wand might be sentient. Dangerous. It was certainly bewitching. Was it a horcrux? She analyzed it and quickly rejected that hypothesis. Having known what a horcrux was first hand, it was clear the wand did not hold an actual sentience in the literal sense. Instead, if anything it was like a computer. Capable of knowing, incapable of acting upon it. Her initial wariness faded, but she was ever careful to never use the wand too much afterwards._

Ron realized that he loved her. It was something he knew a while ago, but had hidden it away deep inside himself. Perhaps he had started feeling more than sibling affection for her years ago. But he had never confronted the feeling nor considered it anything more than a fleeting desire. Besides, his excuse at the time was that it was too dangerous. The war, anyone? Evil Dark Lord trying to kill them? Nobody had time to develop a relationship. Now his excuses were running dry and it was getting harder and harder to ignore whatever it was between them. Especially since Harry was gone. His absence was acutely felt by the remaining two members of the trio and to make up for it, they began spending more time with each other, discussing future plans and projects to help the Order of the Phoenix.

"Mione?" He asked quietly one day, and she looked up at him quizzically from where she had been writing. With the loss of so much knowledge, Hermione had decided to write down all that she could remember. Her eyes were a deep brown, he thought to himself. Deep pools of onyx that was inexorably trapping him in their depths, and he realized that he was treading dangerous grounds. If he took the step forward, there would be no going back. Was he ready to pay the price? "The others are thinking of maybe sending a patronus beacon to try and search for other wizarding families." He quickly looked away, feeling shame and fear warring with desire within his chest. He knew he was being a coward, but confessing his feelings scared him more than anything. He'd rather tango with the Dark Lord, at least he knew what he was risking there.

"Hm, it's an interesting idea. Luna's?" Hermione asked, and her gaze was unfocused as she began to think of how to do such a thing. "I can see how it would work. An amplification rune for the sound, a muggle repellant ward that would follow the patronus, hm... some sort of automatic locator?" Ron couldn't help but laugh.

"What?" She asked him crossly, annoyed that he was laughing at her.

"Nothing," He choked out in between bouts of laughter. "You're so beautiful when you're thinking that hard." Then he realized what he had said and froze as panic flooded him. "I … I mean…" He stammered, trying to backtrack.

Hermione had frozen, her expression a cross between shock and surprise. "You… I…", she seemed at a loss for words. Her expression was guarded and Ron knew in that moment she didn't feel the same way he did. After a long pause where she looked at him in bewilderment and … was that fear? He turned and left. He could not bear looking into her eyes anymore.

"Dammit." He cursed at himself for being such an idiot. How could he have let his guard down so completely and let slip his feelings for her?

_Because he felt safe with her. Because he cared for her more than he cared for anything else in the entire world. Because if anything happened to her… he would become nothing but a broken clock ticking away to oblivion._

_Unraveling the wand was difficult. There wasn't any particular danger to it, the wand wasn't going to blow up or anything like that, but trying to unravel the magic behind it was akin to trying to move a hundred pound statue without magic or tools of any sort. Nearly impossible. Just like Ron. Hermione felt a different vein of frustration overwhelm her. She wasn't sure what she felt for him. Certainly, she loved him. That was true. But did she love him like that? She knew she'd walk to hell and back for him. That she'd give her life to protect his. But she didn't know if that was enough. Whenever he looked at her, there was a longing, a desire that burned behind his black eyes like the fire from a thousand suns. And she was scared by the depth and brightness of that love. So she pretended nothing had happened and he pretended that nothing had happened and they both pretended to ignore it. But everything was different now. She was skittish around him, uncertain and afraid. He was colder, not crueler, but more distant. Afraid of coming closer. Once burned twice shy. In the end, he resorted to using his humor as a shield and she used her projects as an excuse. It was ripping them apart, but neither of them knew what to do. _

Luna came into the room one day and frowned at her. "You've got to stop hiding." Hermione pretended she didn't know what that meant. "I'm not hiding. I'm almost finished with the modifications for the patronus." She tried to distract Luna with the patronus, and together they hashed out some of the kinks in the spellwork.

"This is great, once Bill finishes his ward sigils we can start looking for others out there." Luna smiled happily, carefree and light. It reminded Hermione of better days. "But don't think I've forgotten why I came here." She scolded lightly.

Hermione smiled sheepishly. "I had hoped you might." Luna reached out and hugged Hermione. She returned it gently.

"You're the bravest person I know, Hermione." Luna said at last, letting go of the brunette and sitting beside her. "Nothing good comes from ignoring a problem. I would know." The blonde grinned at the older woman and began to run her hands through her soft brown hair.

Hermione hesitated, trying not to think about it and failing. "You're right. I have to do something. Heaven knows he won't." She thought about how stupid Ron could be and how stubborn he was sometimes. Luna giggled and Hermione's face softened. "I'll talk to him." She promised.

_She played with magic skirting the edges of her limits, taking apart spells and modifying them, changing swishes to flicks and experimenting with the changes. She knew how dangerous it was, but she was careful. There was so much to be discovered about how magic worked. Outside of her experimentation, she avoided using magic. Slowly, she drifted a little farther away from the order. Now that the war was over, politics and leadership was offered and she refused wholeheartedly. It was politics that got her into this, and there was no way she would entangle herself in that conflict again. Ron became the defacto leader and she focused on preserving and recording what she could for future generations. So much knowledge had been lost. She knew she was running out of time. Ron was too scared to talk about it. She was too scared to examine her feelings for him. What if she didn't love him that way? What if it drove him away from her forever? She didn't think she could bear a world without him. Harry was gone. She could not afford to lose him as well. _

"Ron." He jerked at her voice and turned around with a brittle smile. It hurt her that he was hiding his feelings, but given the past few days it was only to be expected. "I don't think of you in that way." She put it bluntly, refusing to dance around the subject. His face fell and she knew that he was going to run. Quickly, Hermione reached out and grabbed a hold of his arm. "That doesn't mean I can't." His expression was befuddled. She laughed softly, and slowly leaned up to kiss him on his cheek. "Convince me. Show me how to see you in that way. You have all the time in the world, I'm not going anywhere." She whispered softly in his ears and turned around to leave.

Ron watched her leave with fondness. Hermione was the most infuriating person he had ever met, and that coming from the best friend of Harry Potter was saying something. Convince her, he mused to himself. Happiness bloomed like a flower inside of his chest, each petal unfurling and filling him with hope and joy. Challenge accepted.

_In many ways_, Hermione thought to herself, _life has a way of not conforming to what you thought it should_. She had thought it would be difficult to see Ron in that light. After all, she had never thought of him like that before. Ron was her best friend, a brother in all but name and blood. Now her romantic interest? Wasn't it supposed to be hard? They had never had time to develop relationships with anyone. The war had seen to that. Perhaps the seeds of desire had been planted long ago and now as the slow realization that Ron loved her more than just a brother dawned, the little seedlings began to bloom. It was the little things, his smile, his laugh, the way he moved, the way he talked. She was falling fast and hard. He knew her so well, like she knew him like the back of her hand. It had taken less than a month before she admitted to herself that she_ liked _Ron. Certainly, he infuriated her sometimes, his bull-headedness and insensibility drove her mad at times. But she had long figured how to coax him into seeing things her way. Maybe if … she cut the thought before it fully developed. No ifs. Never any ifs.

_The wand's origin made no sense. How can it be that the core was non-identified? The spell she used did not have a setting for non-identified and she knew she had not miscast the spell. Something impossible was going on and she was going to solve it. After dealing with the goblins. Preferably non-violently._

She needed to do a few ritual in order to determine what the Elder Wand ritual in question would help her determine the wand's origin, which upon finding out would quickly lead to a list of possible cores. Unfortunately, the ritual need to sacrifice a wand, and seeing how wands were in very short supply these days, she chose to use her own. Initially, she had rejected the whole idea. But nothing was working and eventually she decided to take the risk. Without her wand she would be unable to use her magic, at least not in its full capacity, but with the war over she could afford it. Besides, she had the Elder Wand. If anything happened, she could just use that.

_The wand's origin was not death as she had suspected, which meant her initial theory that the wand's core was a thestral body part or a dementor's body part, two of the only magical creatures linked with death, was wrong. The wand's origin was time. It made no sense. How could a wand have for its core something that has an origin with time? Time was a concept that had very little actual material reflecting its nature in real life. The only thing she could think of was the time turner that she had used in her third year. She now knew the theory on how the sands worked, and realized that it wasn't as amazing as she had thought. A closed loop in time meant it wasn't even real time travel. The wand was driving her nuts. At least one mystery had been solved. She now theorized that the wand was able to use any spell because it had a memory bank. Since the origin of the wand was time, it had no doubt been subject to all sorts of spells. Which meant that the wand was capable of retaining and using any spell it had ever cast. The ability to amplify the user's magic was also explained by its origin. The MoM had developed an amplification filter that enhanced the magic cast by a wizard or witch. The reason it had been scrapped? The filter required a full day to enhance the magic required for a simple levitation charm. It was theorized that for a stunner to be amplified, the filter would require up to a year to charge. If the wand had time as its origin, it could circumvent his problem. Hermione felt excitement well inside her as she inched closer and closer to unraveling the wand. Since she didn't want anyone knowing what it was she was doing, she moved her experiments to Hogwart's dungeons. The castle was broken, but the dungeons had not been touched. Slytherin's common room was miraculously intact and she spent most of her time there, testing out theories and experimenting on the wand. _

"Marry me?" Ron asked a year after they moved in with each other. He went on bended knee and offered her a beautiful ring made of white gold and inlaid with a diamond. Hermione had looked at him stupidly for all of a second before smiling so widely that she felt her cheeks hurt.

"Yes. Yes. Yes." She was crying.

_She had been able to confirm her theory that the wand had an internal memory bank for spells. She had spell-crafted a new curse, a slight alteration to the standard bone-breaker that made the spell not only break bones but also rend the muscles. The first time she cast the spell, she used occlumency to fool herself into thinking she was casting a stunner. The spell failed. Something that had never happened before in all the time she had been using it. She tested it again, thinking of a shield piercer instead of a stunner. Again, it failed. Heart thumping in her chest, she chose another spell at random and cast the modified bone-breaker. Like before, it failed. She cast the spell perfectly for the first time, and quickly ran through the same drill as before. All three times, with her occlumency firmly in place, the spell succeeded where it had failed before. One step closer to unraveling the mysteries of the wand. _

Time was the greatest healer of all. A full year of peace where she pursued her projects of unraveling the Elder Wand and spell-crafting helped too. The rest of the time was divided between helping the order rebuild and spending time with Ron. The war seemed so far away. It was absolute bliss. In a week, they would have their wedding. Everything was perfect.

**_The end. Just kidding. _**

**_Feel free to review and drop some comments, it'd make me a very happy person. And if I'm happy, I write more! Also drop a review if you have questions. _**

**_By the by, I'm rather fickle and prone to making changes in the storyline. This may cause some inconsistencies. Your more than welcome to point them out to me, and I'll see about making some adjustments. _**


	2. Lost

_**Here's chapter 2! I changed my mind a few times about some things in it, feel free to point out any residue mistakes I forgot to deal with. **_

_Who had made the Elder Wand? Where did the incredible technology behind it come from? Historically speaking it was thousands of years old, but how old exactly? So many questions. Hermione knew some questionable magic, having spent months searching up any information on the horcruxes. One of them was a blood ritual that could possibly reveal the identity of the wizard who crafted this brilliant wand. After some careful deliberation, she decided to do the ritual. Shaving a sliver of the wand off, a miniscule fragment that was almost invisible to the naked eye, she placed a drop of her blood and snuck a piece of bone from Harry's corpse. She tried very hard not to think too much about it. Harry wouldn't begrudge her this, not with so much at stake. She hoped._

_Something was very wrong. Perhaps she had been too optimistic in rejecting the possibility that the wand was sentient. The ritual had failed halfway through, and somehow her magic was now bound to the wand. For the first time in a long while, she felt terrified and scared. What had she done?_

Hermione looked at the gleaming black wand in front of her and cursed herself for being so stupid as to forget what it was. How many years had it been, sitting docily in her laboratory, teasing her with snippets of information, luring her deeper and deeper into the trap. It had killed every single wielder before her, did she really think it was safe to play with such an artifact? She shivered and felt more of her magic begin seeping into the wand. Around her, the tattered remains of the blood ritual lay shattered. The wand had resisted the ritual, which could only be possible if it was sentient. A thick rope of light connected her to the wand and she tried desperately to hold on to her essence. It was like trying to resist gravity. The unrelenting pull of the wand was ripping her apart and no matter what she did, she could not move. Was this it? Her final moments? The metallic tang of blood filled her mouth as her body began to shut down. _Internal hemorrhaging._ Her thoughts drifted lazily to Ron, and she felt sorrow and guilt overwhem the pain for a brief moment. If only she had destroyed the wand instead of attempting to study it. If only she had realized what it was doing to her when she had sacrificed her wand to reveal its origin. Unwittingly, she had dug herself a hole so deep that she could no longer remember what life was like without it.

_Come on Hermione. No ifs, remember?_

She gritted her teeth, fighting back a cough and closed her eyes. Using occlumency, she steeled her mind against the pain and focused. Her magic belonged to her alone. No one was allowed to take it from her. No one. She fought the pull of the wand to a standstill, but her magic slowly trickled through her fingers like water. Suddenly, a hand touched her face and she opened her eyes in astonishment. When had she closed them?

"Hello Hermione." Harry looked at her with a soft emerald eyes. He brushed an errant strand of hair behind her ears, in a gesture so familiar that she felt a sob well inside of her chest. His smile was like a knife cutting deep into her.

"I'm sorry," she sobbed, "so sorry for what I've done. I should have known, it was so obvious now and… and…". She realized she was babbling.

"Shhh." Harry hugged her and she felt herself relax. "It's alright. Everything will be alright. Just relax and let go."

Hermione froze. Harry would never have offered her false promises. He would never tell her to just give up either. She tore herself out of his grip and pushed him back.

"You're not Harry." She snarled. "Who are you."

His green eyes darkened, changing color until they were blood red. Lord Voldemort glared at her maliciously. "Your worst nightmare, witch. Give up, you can never win." He sneered at her, but did nothing otherwise.

Hermione studied him impassively. "Impossible, we destroyed every single one of your soul containers. There is no way…" She trailed off as she began to see what was happening. Harry had been the previous owner of wand, and before him it had been Voldemort. That meant the next should be…

"Hello Miss Granger." Albus Dumbledore smiled at her, looking every bit the way she remembered.

"Headmaster," she murmured, uncertain if this was real or not. A shade or an illusion? "Any words of advice?" She asked mockingly.

His sky blue eyes were as she remembered, warm and kind, but his words were wrong, so very wrong. "You should not fear death, child. Embrace it, there is no other way. Fear of the unknown is unbecoming those of great intellect."

His face was growing younger, white hair becoming yellow and blue eyes hardening. Hermione frowned. She didn't recognize the person in front of her, but if her hunch was right this was Gellert Grindelwald.

"Come now. What is one life compared to the many? All you need to do is give up and you will save countless lives. For the greater good."

"You want me to give up?" She said softly, feeling her anger burn inside her like a raging forest fire. Grindelwald raised a hand to her, palm face up as if asking her to take his hand. His face was melting away into the shadows leaving only the hand.

Hermione took the hand gently and felt her magic bubble around her eagerly, awaiting her will. "You have no idea how wrong you are." She snarled and pulled hard. Her magic. Hers and hers alone.

The world snapped and fractured like a smashed window pane and suddenly she was deposited in a soft comfy chair amidst an elegant room. Tapestries and painting were hung around her, and the soft carpet felt rich and soft beneath her feet. Beside her, warm flames crackled merrily in a hearth and seated across from her was a man she had never seen before.

"Another trick?" She scoffed. "You'll have to do better than that. I have no clue who you are."

"Ah, that might be because this isn't an illusion." He replied, amusement evident in his rich baritone voice. His hair was pitch black, dark as the shadows that danced in the firelight. He was easy on the eyes, a strong jawline and high cheekbones that made him seem elegant and refined.

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And I should believe that because…?" She trailed off.

"Well," He stopped for a moment before cocking his head to one side and grinning. "I can't prove a negative. It would be an exercise in futility."

Unbidden, a small smile appeared on Hermione's face. "Indeed. I still don't know who you are supposed to be. I'd think I would remember meeting someone like you."

He quirked an eyebrow. "I'll take that as a compliment. My name is Ignotus Peverell and I am the one who crafted that artifact." He gestured to the wand that hovered between them. Hermione started in surprise. "Where did that come from?" She murmured under her breath.

"It's been here all along, you just never noticed before." He smiled, showing gleaming white teeth.

"And where exactly is here?" She asked warily, keeping her gaze fixed on the seemingly innocuous piece of wood.

"This is my home." He said cheerily. Hermione felt annoyed at his exuberance in the face of her plight. Then she realized what he had just said.

"Wait. You're Ignotus Peverell? And you made the Elder Wand?" She asked in surprise.

Ignotus furrowed his eyebrows in slight amazement. "Is that what they call it in your time? How curious. But to answer your questions, yes and yes."

Hermione thought for a second before shrugging mentally in acceptance. She could not think of a reason he would lie to her about his identity, at least not at the moment. "Suppose." She licked her lips nervously before continuing. "Suppose I believe you. Why am I here?"

Ignotus smiled sharply. "Well, I must admit you were not who I was expecting." Seeing her confusion he held up a hand to stall any questions. "Allow me to explain." Hermione closed her mouth and nodded in agreement.

"First off, I had thought a wizard would appear although I must admit, a beautiful witch such as yourself is certainly far better company," he winked at her and Hermione felt herself flush in embarrassment, "I'll start with the device that brought you here. You must first understand what the … wand... is." He paused and looked at her rather curiously. "I suppose the most important thing about it is that it is not a wand." Hermione felt astonished, then the revelation hit her. "Of course!" She gasped out. "That makes so much sense. No wonder I could not detect a core, it does not have one."

Ignotus smiled proudly. "I did not design it to be a wand, rather it was meant to be a true time turner. It would charge itself by absorbing ambient and channeled magic from the wizards using it. Theoretically, one day it would accumulate enough energy to successfully power the time sands inside and send the person through time to me."

Hermione was confused. "Then how is it that the wand can channel spells and amplify them without a working core?"

Ignotus blushed. "Urm. I don't know." He admitted. "I never intended for the time battery to be able to remember and use spells. It was probably a side-effect resulting from the interaction between the time sands and the in-built amplifier. It must have recorded each spell used and amplified them. It's quite fascinating."

Still reeling from the revelation that the wand was not a wand and that the crafter had not even intended for it to be used as a wand, Hermione remained silent.

"I did, uh, imprint a few runes into the device that would remind the owner to use the battery, although…" He paused again, sounding oddly guilty. "Anyhow…"

Hermione interrupted with narrowed eyes. "What runes are we talking about?"

"Naudhiz and Wunjo, respectively." He said at last, quietly. He didn't look at her. "Anyhow, the point of this was for true time travel to occur."

Hermione froze, any rebuke at his reckless use of runes was forgotten. "What?"

Ignotus grinned widely at her. "True time travel. Open ended! This device would send back a person from the future once it is fully charged, and I would be able to talk to them and find out what happened. My estimations say it would take roughly four generations for the device to be fully charged, five at most! Then, I could make adjustments for the future, making sure to take the best possible route! It's foolproof!" He was flushed with excitement.

Hermione didn't know what to say. "What about the future?" She asked at last, unable to believe what was going on.

"Well, it's already gone." He smiled at her. "I'm really sorry about that, but it's a small sacrifice to pay for the knowledge of future events."

"Small sacrifice?" Hermione felt rage surge through her at the implications of what he had just done. "You complete imbecile." The raven-haired wizard was taken aback at this.

"Look," He said sharply, "I know you don't want to die, but think about all the good you'll do. If you tell me about the future, I'll be able to guide it to the best possible scenario. I could prevent wars from happening, save millions of lives to disease, create new inventions that would have otherwise taken years." He was practically beaming now. "Besides, it's too late now. The device has activated, which means that the future is already gone."

Hermione stopped her arguments, realizing that there was no way she could reason with him. She grabbed the Elder Wand and stood up. "I won't allow this."

Ignotus looked at her in shock. "But…" He stammered, "It's too late already. The future you know is gone!"

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Maybe not." Her mind raced as she tried to find a solution. She closed her eyes and gritted her teeth before lowering the wand cum time travel device. Ignotus beamed at her. "I knew you would see reason. Now tell me, from when do you hail? I must admit I have never seen a witch wearing …"

"_Imperio." _She could not use legilimency. If she injured Ignotus, it would destroy the entire future as she knew it. Besides, legilimency was highly inaccurate and insufficient for the situation. Ignotus' eyes glazed, and she felt a wave of ecstasy rush through her at having him completely and utterly under her control. It was an unforgivable curse for a reason. Prolonged use would render the user addicted, and there was no coming back once you were addicted.

"Is there a way for me to be sent back into the future?" She asked him curtly.

"I do not know. The time stick is supposed to be a one way trip, but currently it holds more energy than it supposed to. Perhaps if you reverse the polarity and trigger the device it will send you back to a future." He spoke monotonously and Hermione nodded. She had guessed that much. She removed the spell and he slowly came out of his daze.

"What was that spell?" He looked shocked, a hint of fear and worry appearing on his face now. "Even if you kill me, the future is already gone. You should accept it."

Hermione looked at him scornfully. "I'm not an idiot. I will wipe your memories of this conversation. You will never remember it."

Ignotus looked stunned. "You can't do that. There is no spell that can …" He paused as realization struck. "I…"

Hermione cut him off. _"Obliviate." _She removed all the relevant information and stunned him right after. She was infinitely glad that occlumency didn't come about until the thirteen hundreds. If Ignotus knew how to shield his mind, the future would truly be destroyed.

Reversing the polarity took her a while, but soon she was ready. Giving a final glare at Ignotus, Hermione activated the wand with her magic. Never before had anyone made her want to kill them as badly as Ignotus. Not even Lord Voldemort.

The wand began to hum and shake as the world around her shattered like a broken mirror and she felt herself spiral into darkness. A sudden thought struck her. What if the device didn't have enough energy to take her to her future? Ignotus had used his body as an anchor, which was why she had appeared before him instead of somewhere random. She had no such anchors. It was like throwing a dart blindfolded and hoping it struck the right target. Suddenly, pain surged through her entire body like a lightning bolt from the sky. The pain did not fade, but grew increasingly agonizing, it was as if she was being burned alive. A second later, she blacked out.

Something was tickling her nose. She giggled and stretched herself, feeling oddly sore but filled with energy. The last time she had felt like this had been the night of their wedding. "Stop it Ron." She curled into herself and lazily opened her eyes. "I'm too sore…"

She was in a grass clearing, surrounded by tall trees whose canopies blocked the sunlight. Now wide awake, Hermione felt panic and adrenalin surge through her veins. Idly, she realized she was completely naked, but the weather was warm and hot. Sometime mid-summer, she thought to herself dazedly. It had been winter when she had done the ritual. Maybe she was on the other side of the globe. It could be possible. Perhaps she had been dumped in the carribeans. Or … or… She looked around her. The Elder Wand was nowhere to be seen, but she knew she could cast the spell wandlessly.

"_Tempus." _She muttered softly. _June 20th 1942._

"No. No. No. No." She hyperventilated, half sobbing, half shouting and choking from unformed words. "Please no." The world was spinning, she couldn't breathe. She stumbled to her feet and nearly tripped. Her balance was off.

"This can't be happening." She muttered to herself. "This is just a bad dream. You're going to wake up anytime now Hermione." Half stumbling, she began to walk. She needed to get somewhere safe.

Before she had taken ten steps, the quick pitter patter of feet told her something was coming toward her. Was that a dog barking? She was dazed and the world made no sense to her. She felt a hysterical giggle well inside her chest. She was crazy. Good. No wait, that was bad. The brush rustled and a big boarhound burst through the undergrowth, barking madly. It bounded to her and began to circle her eagerly, tail wagging and ears straight. A man's voice shouted. It was so far away… Hermione began to laugh.

"Who's there?" A gruff voice exclaimed, an old man rounded the tree and gaped at the sight. A completely nude girl of fourteen or fifteen was laughing madly while Rue circled her all the while barking. She looked at him with unfocused brown eyes and a dazed expression on her face. He blushed as he realized her state of undress. He quickly averted his gaze and pulled at the front of his shirt. "Um, lass…" Before he could say anymore, she dropped in a dead faint mid laugh. Worry briefly warred with embarrassment before the former won. He quickly took off his shirt and used it to cover her as best he could. Then he lifted her carefully, trying his best to touch as little flesh he could before running toward his home. Rue followed behind, barking all the while.

_She drifted in and out of consciousness. _

"_Hermione…" someone was calling her name. She was drowning, water all around her. A flash of red, she coughed, choking on a name. "Ron." She tried to call out to him, but it wasn't him. The red crest of Gryffindor sank in front of her, just out of reach. Desperately, she tried to grab it. The crest transformed into a lion with a magnificent yellow mane. It roared, but she felt safe. Twin shards of emerald gazed at her fondly. "Be strong." _

_She tried to cry out. "No, don't leave me. Please don't leave me. Not again." But the words wouldn't come out. She was choking and coughing as water flooded her lungs. The darkness receded. She was wandering in a forest. Twisting branches tangled her face and hair, but she kept running, brushing them aside. Something was ahead, something important. But suddenly she realized they weren't branches. Snakes were constricting her limbs, binding her and weighing her down. Thick twisting coils of scales crawling down her body and preventing her from moving. Darkness rushed in, blinding her and she covered her face. _

_When she took her hands away, she found herself trapped in a room. There was no doorway, only smooth rock all around her. "You can't keep hiding." Luna said to her, embracing her in a tight hug. "I know." Hermione replied, puzzled at where this was going. _

_The hands holding her lengthened and thickened. "Ronald!" She shrieked as he began to slowly undress her. She giggled as he tickled her and nuzzled into her neck. "Stop it, we'll be late." _

"_No babe, stay with me." He pleaded. She turned and kissed him on the mouth gently. "Silly lion, we have all the time in the world. Just … let … me…" What was it that she had to do again? _

"_Ron? Where are you?" _

"_I'm here." A muffled voice came from behind a tree. Hermione frowned. "Why are you behind the tree?" She shook her head in exasperation. " Never mind, come out. I have a present for you." She purred playfully. When no answer came, she laughed. "Alright. I'll come find you." She began to peel away the bark, but beneath each layer was another and she quickly panicked. Tearing at the wood until her hands bled, she persevered until, suddenly, she broke through and stumbled onto a stone floor. To her horror, a wasteland stretched as far as her eye could see. Broken buildings, smashed stone ramparts and shattered window panes greeted her. In a small circle around her, bones piled up so high she could not even see the top of the sky. A child's voice was singing. _

"_One. Two. Three. Four. Five." Hermione whirled around, looking for the child's voice. "Once I caught a fish alive."_

"_Where are you?" She cried, falling to her knees and feeling tears well in her eyes. _

"_Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. _

_Then I let it go again. _

_Why did you let it go?_

_Because it bit my finger so._

_Which finger did it bite?_

_The little finger on the right."_

"_Please, I need more time." The world was cracking and Hermione knew she needed to leave. A wicked laughter. The little child skipped down from the mountain of bones. "Time is all you have. Here. Have more." With a start, Hermione recognized the child as herself. "Wait." She called out. The world was crumbling away now, darkness bleeding in through the cracks._

"_Wake up." Hermione woke._

The bed she was on was soft and warm, and it took some effort to convince her lazy body to sit up. As she stretched her sore limbs, the snug fur sheet that covered her began to slide down. She realized she was still naked and quickly wrapped it around herself, feeling embarrassed. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room, she realized she was in a small wooden cabin.

"Hey there lass. You feelin' better?" An old man sat by a flickering firelight. The age lines on his face spoke of years of hardship, and Hermione noticed that there was a well worn crossbow lying carefully over his lap. A hunter of some sort, she gathered from her initial inspection. A bloodhound was curled in front of the fireplace, sleeping soundly.

"Ye-es." Her voice was slightly cracked and she cleared her throat a few times to get her vocal cords working. "How… how long have I been out?"

The old man seemed to relax at her question and slowly hung his crossbow on a nearby coat rack. "I'd say er, bout five months roughly. Old man winter rolled in bout couple weeks 'go."

Hermione felt her jaw drop. She had been out for five months? "I din't know if yer was goin' ta pull through. It was touch an' go a few times. Thank the lord you lived lass." At he mention of god, he dipped his head as if to offer a silent prayer.

"Thank you." She said it softly, slightly overwhelmed by the kindness he had shown her. He had tended to her for five whole months.

His smiled at her, before averting his gaze in shame. "When I firs' met ya, I thought to meself that yer was one of them madfolk. I guess it was jus' the sickness talkin'. Sorry bout Charlie, I din't want any trouble." He gestured to the crossbow.

Hermione chuckled softly. "I guess it was." She fell silent again, feeling completely lost. She had half hoped that when she woke it would be to her home in London, beside an amused husband who would no doubt laugh at her fantastical dream of time travelling back to the first century and meeting Ignotus Peverell. But now she knew that it was all real.

"Milady, do ya wan' something ta eat? I've got a fine stew cookin' if I may say so." Hermione suddenly realized how ravenous she was. Feeling flattered that he was calling her a lady, she replied. "Yes, please…" Only to realize she didn't even know what his name was. "And by what name should I call my savior?" She teased him slightly, and even in the faded firelight, she could see a blush steal across his face.

"Er, jus' call me Alan, milady." He quickly distracted himself by scooping a hearty portion of stew from a cooking pot over the fireplace into an oval wooden bowl and grabbed a spoon from the solitary table in the small cabin. Giggling softly, she reached out from under the blankets and accepted the steaming bowl. She made sure to eat it slowly, knowing that rushing would do more harm than good.

"I'm flattered to be called a lady," She said upon finishing the stew and settling back on the bed. "But please call me Hermione."

Alan the hunter flushed red and quickly shook his head. "I couldn', milady. It ain't proper." Hermione frowned for a second. "I must insist, it feels disconcerting to be called a lady when I am not."

The old man looked at her in confusion and bewilderment, then broke out in a low chuckle. "Of course yer a lady, I ain' heard no one speak so well who ain' come from a noble family. Yer prolly still not clear headed jus' yet. It'll come back to ya soon enough, milady." And that was that. Hermione could hardly explain why she spoke so well, and Alan was dead set in calling her by milady.

After her meal of rabbit stew, which tasted absolutely divine, it seemed hunger was the greatest spice, Alan introduced her to Rue the bloodhound, who had woken sometime during their conversation. Rue was a big softy and reminded Hermione of Fang, Hagrid's dog. They both looked tough and mean, but had more bark than bite. She immediately took a liking to Rue and quickly had him curled contently over her lap. Alan relaxed at this and let her play with the dog for a while, before shooing him off and telling her in as stern a voice he could muster that she needed more rest. Hermione only put up a token resistance before agreeing. She still felt a little weak in the limbs.

"Alan, where exactly are we?" Hermione asked the next morning. The old hunter was cleaning and preparing two rabbits for lunch and paused at her question. "Well, I ain' sure where exactly, this area ain' on the maps, milady." He scratched his head before giving a shrug. "In bout a week, Mike will be droppin' by to visit with some goods. I'm sure he'll know where we be, milady."

Hermione thanked him before asking if he had some spare clothes. Alan nodded and withdrew a small package from under the bed. "I got some woman clothes from Mike, he's a good friend o' mine an' he has a girl bout yer age." He busied himself with the rabbits as Hermione dressed herself. As she pulled the tight fitting clothes on, Hermione realized something that almost made her faint. Somehow, she was around fourteen years old. Last she checked, she had been twenty and married. Cursing the Elder Wand in her mind, she pulled the large fur coat and told Alan that she was going to take a walk and get some fresh air. At first Alan told her that he would come, but she protested and they eventually settled for Rue to accompany her and a promise that she would not go any further than twenty steps from the small cabin.

Hermione gazed at the beautiful winter forest that stretched endlessly before her eyes and felt her worries lighten ever so slightly. Rue was running around her excitedly and she obliged him by throwing a thick branch she had found on the ground. He barked happily as he gave chase and rewarded her with a slobbery kiss on the hand when she scratched his head.

She didn't know anything about this era. And that wasn't even the biggest issue. What was she supposed to do? Ignotus' device was ingeniously designed and the first source of open time travel. It was true that she could find the Elder Wand, modify its polarity and try and get back to her own timeline. The only problem? Doing that would change the timeline completely. Dumbledore was supposed to defeat Grindelwald and become the next master of the wand. If she meddled with that, her future would be gone. Perhaps she should just hide away in a remote part of the world and never interact with the outside. Hermione didn't know what to do. She felt frustrated and angry and she didn't know what to do. For once, her mind could give her no solution. Should she try and replicate Ignotus' time travel device? Even if she could, she would need supplies and Hermione was terrified of interacting with the wizarding world. One mistake and her future was eradicated. Already, she had changed a small portion of the muggle world. What if her actions had already invalidated the future? Maybe Alan was supposed to meet the love of his life and have a child who would later grow to become the prime minister? Who knows. By making him care for her over the last five months, had the world already been irrevocably changed?

Hermione fell to her knees and cried. Intellectually, she knew that the future was lost to her. At best, it would be a different one. At worst, a completely new one. But she didn't want to accept it. She cursed Ignotus for meddling with time. _"Bad things happen the wizards and witches who mess with time." _That was the warning she got when she given a simple time turner in her third year to use, but what about traveling fifty-seven years into the past? Three generations away. So close and yet so far.

She was lost and afraid. The desire to hide away pulled at her, and for a second that was all she wanted to do. Live in the forest, hidden away from the world like a fleeting illusion, never ever going into the world. She knew that would be the same thing as killing herself, and if there was one thing she would never accept in any form or way, it was suicide. To give up was not in her blood. A sudden thought came to her mind and she froze. What if she found Ignotus' device, reverse engineered a better version that would enable her to better travel through time and then traveled to where she was now and somehow got rid of herself. Then traveled into the a future where Hermione Granger had never time traveled? Sudden hope flared in her chest and she found herself breathing hard at the thought. In for a penny. In for a dime. Ignotus had meddled with time and brought this situation on her head. Well, she prided herself on being intellectually capable. She'd beat him at this own game. What to do with her past self? She could not obliviate herself, it wouldn't work. And she knew that she wasn't cruel enough to allow herself to be killed. Take her along? She giggled at the thought. Two versions of Hermione traveling into the future. Wouldn't Ron be surprised? She burst out laughing, collapsing onto the snow as Rue tackled her and licked her across the face. She sighed deeply, and looked around at the beautiful forest before slowly getting up to return to the cabin.

She would find a way back home. No matter the cost. And if she had to go against the very laws of magic to do so? Well, she'd already broken so many of them. What was one more?

"How're ya feelin', milady?" Alan asked when she returned, face a little flush from the chill of winter. It was a good feeling and Hermione beamed at him happily. "I feel much better." Alan looked relieved. Hermione could not explain to Alan everything that had happened, but she felt like she owed him an answer of sorts. He had been patient, tending to her needs and caring for her as if she was his family.

"I was lost." She said carefully. Alan, who had been cleaning the pot, stopped at her words. He didn't say anything, just looked at her and listened. "I was taken away from my family," _by a crazy foolish imbecile of a wizard_, "I didn't know how to get back to them so I ran for a long time. I ended up here," _in this era and world, _"with nothing and no one to help me. But now I know how get back to them. There is a place I need to go to and a few people I need to meet." She looked up at him, realizing only then that there were tears trickling down her cheeks. "I'm scared. I feel as if everything I do might be a mistake."

Alan walked over, and in an uncharacteristic act, he hugged her tightly. "It's alrigh'. Yer a strong lass, and it's okay ta feel scared. Believe in yerself, an' ya'll be jus' fine." Hermione felt her worry slowly bleed away and she returned his hug fiercely. "Thank you." She looked at him gratefully. "Thank you for everything." He seemed to realize he was touching her at this point and blushed as he let go.

"Er, certainly milady." She smiled fondly as he busied himself with cleaning the pot, his face bright red at his breach of decorum.

Mike was a wandering merchant who dropped off supply bundles for Alan every season in exchange for some of Alan's collection of animal pelts and horns. They bargained a bit, before Mike agreed to take Hermione to the nearest village in exchange for an exquisite fox pelt. When it was time to go, Hermione found herself weeping at the kindness Alan had shown her.

"Thank you for everything you've done for me." She said, hugging him tightly. "I wish there was some way I could repay you for your help."

"It was nothin', milady." Alan patted her on the head and smiled sadly. "I had a gurl once. She was a fierce un, always yellin' bout seein' the world and travelin'. I din't want her ta go, but fore she could, she fell ill. I wish I could'a been there to help her." Alan was crying now, and Hermione felt a pang of sorrow wash over her. "When I saw yer back in tha' glade, it was like the almighty lord had givin me 'nother chance. I couldn' help my lass, but I'm thankful yer lived through the illness. I want ya to have this." He pulled out a small bracelet made of wood and silver. It was intricately carved with a flowing pattern that resembled the petals of a flower. Alan helped her put it on and showed her how the clasp worked. "Fer good luck, milady." He said bashfully. "I made it for …" He trailed off wistfully, and Hermione knew who he was talking about. They hugged each other for a little longer, before Alan finally let go and ruffled her on her head. "Ya stay strong now. Go an' see the world an' find yer way home. I know ya'll be able to. Jus' be careful, milady."

Hermione nodded, not trusting her voice to remain steady and stepped into Mike's wagon. She watched until Alan and Rue faded from her sight. She wrapped her warm fur coat around herself and smiled. Lulled by the gentle sway of the wagon, she fell asleep feeling warm and content.

The soft murmur of voices woke her from her peaceful slumber. Two men were talking a little way off and she recognized one of them as Mike, his sandy hair contrasting sharply with the snowy background. She stretched her limbs, feeling blood rushing through them and slowly stood from her seated position. Neither men realized she was awake and she didn't want to intrude. Still, curiosity peaked, she strained her ears to listen to what was being said.

"-twenty silver and that's far as I'll go." The other man's voice was gruff and coarse.

"C'mon." Mike whined. "She's _noble_. Ya'll be sure ta git gold when ya sell 'er ta the slavers."

A scoff. "Lik I believe ye. Since when ye ever seen dem nobles 'fore. Twenty silvers. Take it or leave it." He spat on the ground, and shoved Mike back. "I'm done wastin' time 'ere."

Mike stumbled a little and shrunk back. "She talks all proper, I 'eard her meself. And Alan the hunter, he found her an' he calls her _milady_."

A flicker of movement allowed Hermione to catch a glimpse of the other man as he stepped away from the tree he was behind. He was wearing a hood and and only thing that she could see was a rifle casually slung across his shoulders. Behind him, a few meters away, a campfire was lit and a circle of men chatted around it. Each was armed in some way. Behind them, a cargo truck of some sort sat. A man was guarding the back of the truck and he was smoking a cigarette, all the while throwing cross looks in the direction of where Mike and the hooded man were talking. Suddenly, he spat out his cigarette butt and whipped open the back of the truck's canopy and barked something inside. The distance was too far for Hermione to hear, but she caught sight of what was inside and her heart skipped a beat. Children, naked and in chains. The man let go of the canopy and Hermione lost vision of them. Slavers. She didn't have to be a genius to realize who Mike was talking about. Quietly, she crept away from the wagon. Seeing her footprints on the snow made her curse that it was winter. She wished she still had her wand. Then she could… she trailed off. Curse the men? Save the children? She felt anger cloud her mind and she quickly relaxed herself. Anger would not help. First she needed to get away. She would not be able to help anyone if she was in chains. Hermione made sure her footsteps led to the main road, before doubling back and scaling a nearby tree with low hanging branches. Sweat trickled down the side of her face as she balanced precariously on the thin crisp branch. _Please don't break. _She thought to herself. Carefully, she scaled the tree and waited. Mike and the hooded man had reached some sort of agreement, and they began walking toward his wagon. When they saw that she was gone and found her footsteps leading to the main road, the hooded man had swore and smacked Mike on the back of his head.

"Idiot. She musta heard some'in. Ya shoulda bound her hands an' feet. Git outta ma sight." Mike whimpered and quickly left.

The hooded man cursed and spat on the ground before leaving. "Noble my ass. Prolly jus' a wench from some town." He headed back and called out to the men. "We're leavin' in thirty minutes. Pack up!" One of the man began to stamp out the fires while another went to check on their cargo.

Hermione didn't know what to do. The only magic she could use wandlessly were a few simple charms and even then they weren't going to do her any good right now. She knew the smart thing was to leave, find a town and tell them what was happening and hope they could contact the authorities. But she also knew if she did that, it would be a long shot for them to find these slavers. Luckily for her, the light was fading and the shadows were lengthening. Daylight was fading and it would help her sneak into one of the trucks. She needed to distract the guard at the back of the truck. Slowly, she took off her fur overcoat and grimaced. She liked it a lot and didn't want to give it up. But sometimes, sacrifices had to be made. She hung it on a low branch from a tree a few steps away from the camp and crept away and waited. Once she was on the opposite side of the trees, she sent a colored ball of light in the direction of her coat. Shivering slightly, she saw the guard catch sight of the peculiar ball of light. Then he saw her fur coat and swore. Muttering something she didn't understand, he trekked toward it while calling to the other men. They were busy packing and erasing traces of their presence and didn't react much apart from a shout. Hermione saw her opportunity. She quickly dashed to the back of the truck, heart pounding with each step, hoping no one caught sight of her. She lifted the flaps and darted inside quickly.

She hurriedly made a shushing noise and placed a finger over her lips. The children looked at her in surprise and shock, but they didn't make any noise. Outside, she heard the stomp of feet as the guard returned. "Was jus' a fur coat. Dunno who left it," here he laughed raucously before continuing. "But it's warm and smells good. I'mma keep it."

Hermione felt disgust and anger in the pits of her stomach, but gritted her teeth and slowly crept to the front of the truck. The children were now gazing at her in awe, most of them no older than nine at the most. They were all malnourished and filthy. "I'm here to help." She said fiercely in a hushed whisper. "I'm going to get you all out of here. I promise." The inside of the truck was cold and dark, a small slice of hell made real. Chains were attached to each of the slaves and the side of the truck. Who could do such a thing to these children without a hint of remorse? Something dark slithered in her chest, but before her thoughts were fully formed, one of the smaller girls perked up and spoke.

She asked with a hint of awe in her voice. "Ar', ar' ya an angel?" Her voice was quiet as a mouse and soft as a butterfly's wing. It sounded so hopeful that Hermione didn't want to say no.

Shaking her head slightly, she smiled mischieviously at the young girl. "Something like that." She held her hands together and cupped them. Winking at the young girl, she whispered, "Can you keep a secret?" The girl nodded quickly and Hermione concentrated. A soft glow began to emanate from her hands and a small orb of heat and light flared gently into existence between her cupped hands.

Murmurs and whispers broke out from all around her as the other children looked at her in awe. "I'm a witch," Hermione winked at the little girl and gently placed the small orb of heat and light into her frail hands. "And this… this is magic."

The young girl let out a gasp of shock and stammered out, "But… witches are bad." Hermione winced. Maybe she should have just said she was an angel? _Too late now_, she thought to herself. "Not all witches are bad. I'm a good witch," she said softly as she patted the girl on her head. The other children crowded around them, desperately seeking the small ball of heat and

light and Hermione felt her heart ache.

_How could those men do this. What monsters could do this to these children?_ For the first time in a long time, she felt a deep dark desire flare inside her. She wanted to hurt them, make them feel pain and regret. She wanted to see them writhe in agony and beg for mercy, only for it to be denied to them… Hermione cut off that train of thought and slowly cleared her mind. Emotions were tricky things and it would not help her any if she gave in to them and did something reckless. That was Harry and Ron's job, hers was to be the voice of reason. With a soft rumble, the truck began to move.

She knew that the sun would set in an hour or so, and then she could put her plan into motion. She had counted four men, a driver, the hooded man who no doubt was the leader and two guards. The two guards both had a pistol each and a the rear guard had a knife strapped to his thigh. Their leader carried a rifle and probably also had a knife stashed on him somewhere. She wasn't sure what arms the driver carried, but on the safe side she would assume that they all had a gun and knife. Her only chance at getting them out was when they were on the move. She would have to incapacitate the guard at the back of the truck and free the children from their chains. Then they would jump off the moving truck, hopefully leaving the slavers on idea that their cargo had escaped. It would have to be done in the dark to prevent the three men at the front from finding out.

Hermione patiently sat, arms wrapped around the young girl holding the light while the others huddled around them. Some of the children were falling asleep, lulled by the ball of heat and warmth. The young girl holding it continued to stare at her in awe. The sheer amount of hope in that gaze made her hurt. How could she afford to fail now? It simply wasn't an option anymore. The girl's eyes were so innocent and childish that it wiped away any doubts on whether she had made the right choice. _This must be why I was in Gryffindor._ She wryly remarked to herself, before catching herself guiltily. _I of all people should not let my prejudices carry me away._ She had known brave people from all four of the houses, Gryffindor did not hold exclusive claim on that trait.

"What's your name?" Hermione asked the young girl softly and the tiny child gave a radiant smile. "Ma name is Eva..." There was a pause as she stuttered over the next syllable. "ge...gelina."

Hermione smiled at this and parroted her name back. "Evangelina?" Evangelina nodded rapidly.

"It's a good name. May I call you Eva for short?"

The young girl thought for a second before giving a toothy smile. "Okay!" She beamed at Hermione, who let out a soft giggle at her exuberance. It was amazing that the girl was still able to smile like that considering where they were.

After a while, Hermione decided it was time. Slowly, she clambered to her feet. The children gathered around her stirred and she motioned for those still awake to rouse the rest. "I'm going to get rid of your chains now. Don't be surprised and stay as quiet as you can." She looked all of them over, making sure they all understood before closing her eyes and concentrated on aligning her will with her magic. This would likely be the hardest piece of wandless magic she needed to do tonight and a failure here could ruin everything. A wide spread unlocking charm was tricky to do even with a wand, and she could ill afford to fail now.

"_Alohamora."_ She muttered as loudly as she dared and threw both her hands out. Something invisible but tangible, like a wave of air burst from around her. Every single chain in the truck snapped open with an audible clack. Hermione froze. She heard the guard outside give a startled yelp. Moving like a snake, she weaved past the stunned children and managed to reach the back door just as the guard flung it open.

"Oy, what's goin' on 'ere?" The guard saw her and his eyes widened in surprise and shock, but before he could say anything, she knife-punched him in the throat with her knuckles. As he choked, her other hand released a round ball of light that flared upon contact with the air, blinding everyone in the truck except Hermione, who had closed her eyes in anticipation. As the man stumbled back, choking and half blind, she grabbed his collar and slammed him down onto the ground. She knew that once he recovered, he would overpower her easily as her physical form was nothing compared to that of a grown man. She went for his knife, pulling it from the sheath and quickly placed it against his neck. She flipped him into a sitting posture and slid around until she was neatly behind him. Then she dug her knee into his back, preventing him from gaining any leverage against her position. Her smaller frame aided her and she smiled coldly as he shook his head in a slight daze before freezing as the knife drew a thin red line across his neck.

Hermione was no stranger to killing. You could not fight a war, much less win one if you weren't ready to commit everything into it. Hermione had weighed her love for her two greatest and best friends against her humanity and chose the former without hesitation. But she never enjoyed it.

"Let go of the gun. Now." Her voice was ice cold and firm. The man instantly dropped the pistol and it clattered onto the floor of the truck. "Eva," Hermione called gently. "Can you pick that up for me?"

The small girl crawled forward and quickly snatched the gun, holding it awkwardly in her hands. "Good girl." Hermione praised and Eva blushed as she shifted from foot to foot. Everything was going well when Hermione felt the truck begin to slow. Her heart tried to leap out of it's cage and she felt panic surge through her. Did they hear something? Was it time to stop? Please don't be the latter, she thought desperately.

Thankfully, a man's voice called from the front of the truck. "Oy Nicolas, everythin' good back there? Thought I heard somethin'."

"Tell them everything is alright. You stubbed your toe against the side of the truck." Hermione hissed into Nicolas' ear. "Or I swear by all that is divine I will slit your throat and leave you to die here."

The man gulped and the movement brought his adam's apple in contact with the cold edge of the blade. Hermione slowly withdrew her knife a few inches away from his throat to let him talk. "Every… everythin'... all good." He licked his lips nervously as he yelled back. "I jus' stubbed me toe that's all."

A raucous laugh was heard. "Ha! Clumsy fool." The truck engine roared and with a lurch they were moving again.

"Good boy." Hermione purred into his ear before turning to Eva. "Eva, can you open the flaps?" Eva let go of the gun with one hand and used it to pull the green canopy open. The truck was moving at a moderate pace and Hermione judged it to be safe enough to jump off. She turned to the other children. "On a count of three, you're all going to jump off the truck. Make a line. Ready?"

Eva nodded and the other children scrambled into a makeshift line. Some were scared, others had looks of determination on their faces, but they all knew that this was their only chance of escape.

"One. Two. Three. Go!" The children leapt out of the truck, one after the other until only Hermione and Eva were left. Hermione pushed the man out roughly, uncaring if he hurt himself and grabbed Eva with her free hand and hopped off the truck. Within seconds, the truck faded into the distance, leaving them in darkness. "Give me the gun, Eva." She whispered to the young girl and felt the cold butt of the gun smack into her hand. Quickly grasping the pistol, she stashed the knife into her waist belt and conjured another ball of light and heat. Nicolas was on the ground, moaning in pain. He must have fallen onto the ground at an awkward angle. Hermione didn't feel guilty in the slightest. The other children saw the light and quickly ran toward it until they were all huddled around Hermione again. Nicolas gazed at with undisguised fear.

"What…" He stammered. "What 're ya?" His terrified eyes sent a thrill of adrenalin through Hermione and she felt her magic stir awake like a slumbering dragon. Ignoring him, Hermione did a quick headcount. Twelve mops of unruly hair meant twelve children which meant they were all here. Breathing a sigh of relief that no one had gotten lost, Hermione turned to Eva with the small orb of light. "Could you hold this for me, Eva?" At her nod, Hermione passed it to her. Holding the pistol firmly, she gestured to Nicolas.

"Give me back my coat ." Nicolas looked at her in bewilderment before realization dawned on him. Shakily, he removed the coat. "That light… in the fores'. Ya did it!"

Hermoine studied him long and hard and thought about what to do. "My instincts tell me to get rid of you." His eyes widened in panic and he scrambled to his feet shakily. His blonde hair swayed in the wind and she was struck by how young he was. He could not have been more than seventeen. He balanced shakily on his good leg and opened his mouth to say something, but Hermione cut him off. "Any man who could do such a thing, to children no less, is nothing but scum." Under the light of the orb, Hermione realized just how young Nicolas was. Sixteen? Seventeen? On the verge of manhood, but not yet a man. The baby fat still lingered in his cheeks and his eyes were too open for someone in this line of work. "But I'll give you another chance." Nicolas nodded quickly, relief flashing across his face.

It made for a strange sight indeed. A group of ragtag children led by two teenagers, one of which was limping. Behind them, a small ball of light provided heat and vision for the travelling group. Eventually the road led them to what looked like a city. Street lamps littered the road and buildings grew out of the trees. They continued walking and as Hermione pondered on what to do next, a flashlight appeared from around a corner and movement was heard. Quickly, Hermione extinguished the ball of light and heard Eva's startled cry. The cold seeped in, as the heat provided by the orb began to bleed away.

"Who goes 'ere?" A man's voice called out. The harsh glare of the flashlight prevented her from seeing the speaker clearly. As the light fell upon them, the man gave a start at the sight before him. "Children? At this time o' the night? Wha' in the name o' Lord."

Hermione was getting slightly annoyed at this and stepped forward. "We need shelter and food. If you are done gaping at us?"

The man lifted the flashlight and Hermione caught sight of his deep green uniform. A police officer. He was also hurridly stowing away the gun he had taken out. "Righ'. Come wit' me."

He led them to a flat rectangular building with multiple windows and a large wooden door that had glass panels on each side. As they stepped inside, Hermione gave a sigh of relief. It was warm inside, soft puffs of warm air banished the cold fingers of winter. Several other police officers were milling about, and they looked up when they heard the noise of multiple feet on the wooden floor. The police officer leading them was a stout man, his grey hair was neatly cut and his features were somewhat plain, had it not been for his sharp blue eyes that made look younger than he actually was.

"Barry, whassat ya got there?" A man's gruff voice called out. "Who'd ya arrest this time? By the Lord, where'd all these children come from?" He broke off in astonishment as he caught sight of the group.

"We'll need ta get blankets and food fer em firs', mind 'elping me out 'ere, David?" Barry, the officer that had found them in the town, gestured to the ragged clothes of the children.

"O'course. O'course. Isaac, fetch them blankets from the storage room. Paul, get ta the bakery and bring back some loafs an' milk. Oh an', Alison dear, can ya get Dr. Hart on the line." David directed the others before turning to look at Hermione and Nicolas. Hermione had given Eva her fur coat earlier and was now wearing a warm dress with buttons. He was clearly the chief of the police station, wearing a uniform that was decorated with several medals and he was much older than Barry. He was bald and fat, but a sort of cheery rotundness that made him seem harmeless and joyful at the same time. His personality certainly fit his appearance as he beamed at them despite his confusion at what was going on.

Upon finishing giving orders, he looked over to where the two teens stood. Nicolas was leaning on Hermione, still unable to stand alone. Quickly, his eyes glossed over Hermione and fell on the older teen. "Now then. What's going on 'ere?" The chief asked, turning to Nicolas. The young teen looked confused for a second, then froze. He looked fearfully at Hermione, unsure of what to say.

She cursed herself silently in her mind, she had been so caught up in making sure they made it safely to shelter, that it had completely slipped her mind what to do after. How was she going to explain this? The gun in her inner pocket would be difficult to explain. The journey through the forest would also be nearly impossible to explain. A ball of heat and light? Preposterous. Thinking quickly, she stepped forward.

"We found a truck." She began hesitantly, trying to be as truthful as she could. "These children were chained inside it just outside of town. Nicolas here," Hermione paused and turned to look at him. Apart from their brown hair, they shared no other similarity. No way to pass him off as a brother or cousin. "Is my guardian," she continued carefully. "We were on our way to London, when we caught sight of the slavers. Nicolas snuck into the truck and freed the children, afterwhich we ran until we came here."

David was looking at her sceptically. "Is tha' righ'?" He muttered softly in reply. There was nothing wrong with the explanation per se, but his carefully honed detective senses were tingling that something was not right here. Still, the girl and the boy were too young to be up to something nefarious and the children were indeed malnourished and mistreated. Besides, either the girl was a really good actor, or she was telling the truth. Shrugging, he put out his hand for Nicolas to shake.

"Ya did a good thing, lad." Nicolas took his hand and shook it warily, still not talking. "We'll take care of the children from 'ere. Yer both welcome ta stay and eat with em. I'm sure yer all starving from all the running. Barry'll take care of ya both. I'll be filin' a report on this and I'll need ya to answer some questions later." With that said, he turned and walked away.

"Sir," Hermoine interjected before he was out of earshot. He turned, curious. "Do you know how to get to London from here? I… we...have some family out there." She amended quickly remembering her cover story.

David looked at her sharply for a second before answering. "There's a train that'll take ya to the central station in London. It passes every second hour, til midnight."

"Thank you." Hermione smiled at him innocently and his expression softened a little. He turned away again.

"Barry, keep an eye on those two, would ya? I've a feeling somethin' is amiss. But no need to do anythin' just yet, they seem like good folk." He said under his breath to Barry, who nodded carefully.

"Consider it done, sir."

David snorted and slapped Barry on the back. "None o' that now, you were doing good earlier. Like I said, call me David. I ain't that old jus' yet." He chuckled softly.

Hermione grimaced as the portly chief waddled off. She didn't need to use legilimency to see that he was sceptical of her story. She had omitted quite a large chunk of it after all. Sighing, she relaxed. The important thing was that the children were safe. Besides, she smiled softly, there were worse things than lying to the police.

"Er." Nicolas was looking at the ground. "Wha… what're ya gonna do now, um… miss?" Hermione shook her head. "Call me Her… Jane." She cut herself from saying her real name. "We won't stay long enough for them to find out anything." She looked at him sharply. "..." Before she could say anything, she saw the small pelting figure of Eva rushing at her. Taken aback, she braced herself and smiled when the young girl hugged her fiercely around the waist.

"Thank ya!" Hermione stroked her hair softly, and shook her head when the young girl held out her fur coat. "Keep it, it will keep you warm over the winter."

At this moment, the door opened and a cold draft rushed in. Moments later, a tall thin police officer walked in with a bundle of bread and a case full of milk jars. "Food's 'ere!" He cried out happily.

While they ate, Hermione discreetly looked around the station for a means of distraction. She had a niggling feeling that they were being watched. David probably didn't buy her explanation and she had no desire to get interrogated after the food. Eva was also sneaking looks at her, as if reassuring herself that Hermione was really there. She felt a pang of sorrow at having to leave the young girl, but she was in no position to help the young child. Nicolas pulled at her sleeves gently and she turned to look at him inquisitively.

"What's up?" He looked at her perplexed for a second. "I mean, what is it?" Hermione amended hastily, realizing that the colloquial she was familiar with was completely foreign in the 40s.

"That police officer keeps lookin' at us." Nicolas nodded toward the policeman who had brought them in and Hermione found the man looking at them impassively. "I'll think of something." Hermione whispered back distractedly.

It would be so much easier if she just left Nicolas behind. Glancing at the thin blond, she contemplated leaving him to the police. He looked around skittishly and bit his lower lips before turning to her pleadingly. She smiled confidently at him, and placed a hand on his. "Don't worry. I will find a way." She promised. He breathed out and weakly smiled back.

Turning her head again, Hermione wondered how she was going to get out of this situation. Some flashly lights were hardly going to avail her here and basic charms, no matter how overpowered she could make them, would be nigh useless. A sudden thought struck her. Yes. That would work.

Grinning, she turned to Nicolas. "I've got an idea. I'll need your help though." Nicolas looked at her puzzledly. "No time to explain. I need you to distract the police officer, just keep him talking. I will take care of the rest." Pushing the still perplexed teen to his feet, she headed toward the restrooms. Barry made to stand and follow, but Nicolas quickly intercepted and blocked him off.

Hermione broke into a run as she rounded the corner and cast a nifty nightvision charm on herself as she approached her target. It was the central circuit for the electricity running in the building. The panel was secured by a weighty lock that looked quite formidable. Nothing an unlocking charm couldn't take care of. She scrutinised the different wires and bit her lower lips. She wasn't sure which one governed the lights, there were too many colored wires. _Red? Blue? Yellow? Green?_ _Oh for heaven's sake. Just cut them all Hermione, stop diddling around._ Hesitation would get her killed, that was the first lesson she learned in the war. _Diffindo._ She focused her will and each of the wires snapped apart cleanly. Instantly, the entire hall was plunged into darkness and an alarm began to sound. Sprinting back the way she came, Hermione heard voices cry out in panic, but they were all swallowed by the shrill blare of the alarm. Spotting Nicolas beside Barry, who was looking around wildly, she grabbed his hand and tugged him toward the exit.

"Follow me," She hissed as loudly as she dared. "Before the backup lights come up." They made it through the main entrance just as a muted whine informed her that the emergency lights had lit. "Run!" She cried and together the two of them sprinted away from the police station. They ran for a good minute before slowing down. Hermione panted, feeling her lungs protesting at her sudden physical exertion and turned to Nicolas. He was bent over, his breath coming in harsh gasps.

"That… was… brill!" He managed to get out and Hermione giggled breathlessly. "Now then, why don't you tell me why you didn't want the police finding out about you?"

The blond froze, and Hermione frowned. "Look. I'm in the same boat as you, besides, I didn't run away just so I can turn you over to the police again."

Nicolas shuffled a little before sighing. "All righ'. I suppose I owe ya one fer that." Together, they walked toward the town's extrance. After a few steps, the blond began to speak.

"Me ma was a cleanin' girl fer a rich folk. She got into it wit' the family's second son and got preggers wit' me." He paused and Hermione didn't need legilimency to feel the rage and anger in his spirit. "She knew it weren't safe so she ran. The rich folk didn' wan no scandal, so they hushed things up. Ma passed me to 'er sister and told her ta raise me as her own. They… they found her body in a ditch some months later. It was dem basterds. I'm sure o' it. I didn' know til a few years later. I ran away from home, and got caught by some slavers. Didn' wanna die so I jus' did what they said ta do." He shrugged. "Dunno how I began ta work fer em, it jus' kinda happened."

They reached the forest and Hermione turned to the young man. "What will you do now?" She asked him gravely.

He looked wistfully into the brightening sky. "Suppose it's time ta go home. I'm gonna find me aunt an' tell 'er … something."

Hermione nodded. "I suppose this is where we part ways. Best of luck, Nicolas."

The blond looked at her, suddenly a little nervous. "Me name's Jonathan. Ain't Nicolas." He spat into the ground at this. Hermione took out his knife and handed it back to him. "Best of luck, Jonathan."

He smiled at her and nodded. "Thanks, miss witch. Yer not like them witches in the stories." Hermione snorted at that. "Hmph." She watched him walk away and sighed to herself. "What twisted webs we spin." She turned toward the rising sun and shielded her eyes from the rosy hue of dawn's first rays. _Finite._ Her vision faded to normal and she began to trudge back toward the town. She needed to get on that train for London.

It was slightly chilly without her overcoat, but it was nothing she could not handle. She pulled her hood over her head and carefully walked in the shadows of the nearby houses. Finding the train station was much easier than she thought it would be, but the two police officers patrolling the entrance to the station put a dampener on her cheerful mood. She probably should not have told the chief inspector where she was going. Cursing under her breath, she slid into a nearby alleyway and spent the next hour or so watching them. At the end of her reconaissance, she was cold, tired and hungry. She was also sure that there was no way for her to sneak past them. They were fastidious and diligent in their guard duty. Why could they not have been lazy and undisciplined? _The war._ She thought to herself. Sighing, she thought about her options. _She could try and use magic to disguise herself and sneak past them. She could try and wait them out. They would give up… eventually. Or she could try and follow the train tracks to the next town and board the train there. _

If she had her wand, things would be so much simpler, but without her focus Hermione wasn't sure that her charms would hold under careful scrutiny. Option two was too dangerous, they would be sending out patrols to find her, she needed to get out the town as quickly as possible. That left option three. Hopefully the next town wasn't that far off. With her luck, who knew. Scowling, Hermione circled around the train station until she caught sight of the railroad. She made a small orb of heat under her jacket and began to walk alongside the metal tracks.

_To London. To Hogwarts. To find Grindelwald. The Elder Wand. _Hermione closed her eyes briefly. Red hair and freckles. Ron. _To home_.

_**Reviewing makes me happy.**_

**_If I am happy, then I write more._**

**_So, please review!_**


	3. Impetus

**A.N. Just think of the slavery elements as human trafficking, and know I had no real intention of following that up with anything. Even I was a little confused at times writing it. But by then I was a few hundred words in and I didn't feel like stopping. **

**Also, Alan is kinda cliched, the whole 'I saved ya, cause ya remind me o' mah little girl who passed away because of _ (insert tragic death)', but I felt like it would help Hermione adjust if she wasn't just thrown in the middle of a hospital during wartime. After all, she's been thrown out of her timeline!? If this doesn't cause her to panic, then I have no idea what will. **

**Thanks for the review, I do wish more people reviewed. *HINT HINT* Need I use a sledgehammer to convey my point?**

**By the way, I may have intentionally ignored the magical communities outside of GB in my intro scenario. Can we just pretend there aren't any? Despite the whole Beauxbatons and Durmstrang school. Ouch. Let's assume they got wiped really early and their ministries defaulted to the MoM in GB? Um… yeah. And that somehow the only wizarding community that exists dwell in GB… And no one trying to flee the law will think of settling in another region of the world… and that magic holds true everywhere the same way… ugh… please don't kill me...**

**So Hermione… how strong is she? Very. But there is a large difference between fighting as a three man team where the two others are both strong duelists with one being extremely powerful but with little control and the other being a somewhat reckless fool who doesn't know the meaning of fear, and fighting alone. Also, she's stuck in a fourteen year old body with a twenty one year old magical core. The dissonance is going to cause her spells to go a little wonky. Also, her physical endurance is gone and her muscles do not respond the way she is used to. Her emotions are much harder to control and she is still in the middle of grieving for all the friends and family she lost during the war. She is also 25% insane. At least. **

**But really, if fighting could solve the world's problems… ha! As if. I hold by the tenant of the pen is mightier than the sword. 90% of the time. Okay… at least 75%. You'll give me 50% for sure, right? Right?!**

**Albus Dumbledore and … more importantly… Tom Riddle. They are going to be very important. I chose this year because Riddle is beginning his whole descent into the Dark Arts. But seeing how I'm 30k words in and they are nowhere to be seen… let's just say I have my work cut out for me. **

**Our main antagonist? Well… you'll find out shortly. I mean, did you really think he was going to roll over and give up his wand? Nuh-uh. Epic good guys with great intellect must have epic bad guy with equal intellect as an archenemy. Otherwise it wouldn't be fun!**

**Is she going to Hogwarts as student? No. I tried to think of a rational reason for why a war veteran like Hermione would want to go to a school full of pubescent teenagers trying to outdo one another and I found that I didn't even want to try very hard. Just no. The sheer havoc and inconsistency that would rack up doesn't even begin to describe why it is a bad idea. **

**She cannot tell anyone she is a time traveler. Even if they were to believe her, it would ruin her goal of finding the wand and returning to her original timeline. **

**At best, she would turn the entire MoM against her, at worst they would actively hunt her down and force the truth from her. **

**She would feel trapped in school and all the restrictions to protect teenagers from doing silly things would effectively hamstring her goal of hunting for Grindelwald.**

**That isn't to say Hogwarts won't play an important part of the story, Hermione needs allies despite her desire to do this alone and whether she wants it or not, Albus Dumbledore is going to play a part in this story. Because I want it… **

**Concerning how magic works? Yeah, I'm still working on it. Mostly wondering how I am going to make it work. The thing is, I like magic where spells don't necessarily require specific intent, what I mean by that is the magician can summon a localized firestorm; basically what most games do with their magic. AoE rain of death, flashy, great looking, sends chills down my back. Yet at the same time, HP is more focused on spells with specific intent. Green beam of death, cutting, tripping, cheering, blah blah blah. They don't mesh well together. What if someone uses a spell to spew fire and the other sends a cutter? Do they clash? Does it just go through? And don't get me started on transfiguration… that's just begging for contradictions. Transform a piece of rubble into a lion? Do you know how many rules of physics you just broke? No? Try nearly all of em… Sigh… Let's just be nice and pretend things that don't make sense do make sense and nobody is going to exploit this.**

**So, I noticed in the books a wizard or witch's wand were rather commonplace. Considering their importance, I upped it in this story because I think I would treasure the one thing that enabled me to cast my magic. I mean… Albus Dumbledore without a wand… Let's not go there…**

**And that's it. So… wand… REALLY important. As in, it's the equivalent of your right hand. Lose your wand? You just lost your right hand. Luckily the former isn't permanent. **

**OC. I am going to have to fill the story with so many OCs… you're going to have to bear with me. I'll do my best to make them a little more three dimensional. But since I want to focus on Hermione, some of them are going to be bland and generic. **

Tap. Tap. Tap. He drummed his fingers, deep in thought. _What are you planning, dear friend?_ The wooden chess pieces did not answer and he sighed softly. _Sometimes… I wish… _He reached out and advanced his knight. The checkered board glowed and Gellert Grindelwald knew that thousands of miles away, on another chess board, another knight moved in sync to his. _Your move, Albus. You cannot stay on the defensive forever._

A soft knock sounded and Gellert turned away from the chessboard. "Enter." A woman wearing a tight military uniform entered, her hands clasped behind her back. Her features were sharp and predatory, full lips that tantalized and entranced a person formed an enigmatic half smile. Her beauty was like that of a blade, elegant but deadly. You approached her at your own risk. Her eyes were twin shards of steel, and the way she carried herself spoke of confidence and training. This was not a person you wanted to trifle with.

"General." Her voice was smooth like cloth rustling in the wind. "A letter for you." She held out a manila envelope in one crisp movement.

"Thank you, Vera." Gellert turned away from the table where the chess pieces lay and slowly walked over to take the envelope from her hands.

She bowed her head, and was about to turn to leave when Gellert raised his other hand and gently brushed the side of her face. Her eyes widened in surprise and her heartbeat fluttered like a caged bird. He opened his mouth, as if there was something he desperately wanted to say, but the seconds passed and the moment became brittle, like a sheet of ice too thin to withstand the river's current. Vera fought the urge to lean into his touch and instead withdrew, a well worn mask of impassivity slipping over her. "If there is nothing else, General." Her voice did not tremble, but her mouth was dry and if she blinked a few times too many, no one said anything.

His eyes were sad, and his hand remained in the air as if trying hold onto the wind. Then the moment passed and he nodded quickly. "That is all, you may go." His voice was as composed as ever and his face showed nothing now.

Vera backed away and slipped through the doorway. She braced herself against the wooden door behind her and felt tears well in her eyes. Slowly, she raised a trembling hand and wiped away the half formed tears. She walked away, never looking back.

Gellert stared at his hand, still held mid-air and curled it into a fist. Slowly, he let it drop to his side before placing the envelope on his desk.

The air felt cooler and Gellert wondered if it was his heart that had chilled or the room. He unraveled the string securing the envelope and shook out the documents it contained. They spilled onto the table haphazardly, and it took him an instant before he puzzled out the contents.

Troop movements and blueprints for cities lay in the fading sunlight and a savage smile broke out as he felt his magic surge through him in excitement. The blond wizard chuckled softly in glee. There was a soft whisper in the air, and his magic crackled around him in small bursts of lightning, supercharging the air around him. _Soon. A few more pieces and everything would be in place. _

Vera Amaris Larktail strode into the barracks and coughed as the pungent scent of smoke hit her senses. Seated around a large scale map were five men, each wearing an officer's uniform and they all looked up when she entered. One of them was the culprit for the smoke, the white cigarette protruding from his mouth evidence of his crime and he quickly gave her a sheepish grin when she glared at him. Vera took her wand and waved it around her head, a soft bubble forming behind the wooden stick. It slowly faded into transparency and one of the men whistled, impressed.

"That's a neat trick, I've never seen an invisible bubble-head charm." He spoke slowly and haltingly, with the slow patience of one for whom english was not a native tongue. Though everyone else was seated besides Vera, he was still a full head above everyone else, and even at a cursory glance it was clear he took excruciatingly good care of his physique. He could have been considered handsome at one time, but the jagged scar that went from his forehead to the bridge of his nose served only to make him look grotesque. His eyes were intense, black as ink with hair to match. This was Jaeger Fleischer, master duelist and lead combatant in Grindelwald's army.

"Ha, the subtleties of charms would be wasted on you." The man smoking the cigarette scoffed, but Jaeger did not take offense. He merely turned his gaze on the blond who raised an eyebrow challengingly.

"Is it your turn today?" Jaeger asked in a semi-serious tone.

The blond looked bewildered at the non-sequitur. "My turn for what?" He answered quizzically.

"To be the asshole of the day." Jaeger smirked as the two others broke into guffaws. The blond groaned. "Oh shut up, you idiots."

The blond was Mikhail Volkov, spymaster and head of intelligence for Grindelwald. Needless to say, the two were good friends and enjoyed some friendly banter from time to time.

Vera plopped herself ungracefully onto an empty chair and pulled out a deck of cards. "Still no orders?" Mikhail asked, looking at her sympathetically.

"No." Her reply was curt, and Mikhail dropped the subject quickly. Gellert was a touchy subject to bring up around Vera, and he knew that there was something going on between them, but no one knew for sure. And everyone was smart enough not to pry. Mikhail prided himself on his observational skills, but even he wasn't suicidal enough to get embroiled in whatever was going on between Gellert and right hand woman.

He paused and threw down his cards in disgust, Jaeger must have rigged his cards while he was distracted, and seeing his smirk Mikhail vowed to avenge himself next round. As the coins he had already committed disappeared into the german's meaty hands, he narrowed his eyes into a fearsome glare that would have sent a lesser man quaking in fear. Jaeger merely grinned. Grunting, Mikhail leaned back, and as he did so he felt a tightening around his lower stomach. His instincts had rarely failed him and now they were telling him that something big was going to happen very soon. For now though, he would enjoy the company of his friends. Hiding his grin, he discreetly palmed an ace, it made taking their money all the sweeter.

Sneaking past the ticket booth was child's work. The plump man in blue uniform was snoozing, not expecting anyone to take the train at four am in the morning. Hermione resisted the urge to giggle as the man twitched in his sleep and quietly shut the door behind her, a one way ticket to London clutched in her hand. Everything was very well organized, and Hermione hesitated for all of two seconds before selecting the pink slip with FIRST CLASS stamped across the small compact piece of paper.

Judging by the train schedule stamped on a nearby bulletin board, the next train would be arriving within the hour. The young witch left the central area and headed to the platform to await the arrival of the train. Just in case the man behind the booth woke up, he would be none the wiser that someone had passed through.

Whistling to herself, Hermione stretched her tired and aching limbs under the brightening sky, knowing it would help her weather the morning to come. She pushed away thoughts of what to do and what could happen, such things were better left for another time. Making plans while sleep deprived was always a bad idea. After what seemed like an eternity, although it was really only twenty minutes, she heard the blare of a horn and the screech of metal rubbing against the rail tracks.

A few seconds later, a black locomotive came into view. In some ways, it reminded her of the Hogwart's Express, except instead of gleaming red and gold steel meshed with beautifully crafted compartments, it was instead a burnished brown and black. The sound was awful too, a loud wail that sounded like someone trying to shatter a mirror with nothing but their voice and the metallic whup whup of the engine made it very hard to think.

A man in red uniform poked a head out and gave a start when he caught sight of her. No doubt surprised that anyone would be boarding the train at such a remote location. He took her ticket and gave it a quick cursory glance before returning it and waving her toward the carriage marked with the number 1.

Inside, she was met with a small hallway surrounded by multiple compartments. The hallway was wide enough for three people to fit side by side and there was a wooden railing that ran along both sides. Looking each compartment over, there were only eighteen of them, Hermione noticed that the seven of them had multiple slips of paper stuck atop the sliding door. Each slip had a destination written over it and she surmised that the number of slips indicated the number occupants within those compartments. The rest were unmarked.

Shrugging, she chose one at random and slid the door open. The compartment it revealed was very spacious, resembling a small living room. There was even room to walk around if one desired to. Shrugging off her undercoat, she hung it in the closet and sank contentedly onto the cushioned couch. As the warmth spread, she gave a small sigh of happiness. No more trudging through snow, hearing the endless crunch of boots on soft ice, while getting facefulls of icy wind that made her extremities burn. She was about to nod off when she heard a soft knock. Groaning, she stood up and slid the door open somewhat grumpily.

"Hello?" She said curtly. The red uniformed ticket collector opened his mouth to say something, then averted his eyes and blushed slightly.

"I'm uh… I need to uh, confirm the ticket." He shuffled from foot to foot, looking everywhere but at her. "If you want… I can come back later."

"No need." Hermione went over the her coat and pulled the pink slip out and handed it to the man. "Here."

He looked it over again and nodded. "It says here London, is it?"

All Hermione wanted to do was sink back onto the couch and sleep, but she gritted her teeth and resisted the fatigue as best she could. The last thing she wanted was to draw attention to herself. "Yes, my uncle lives there. I'm going to stay with him for a while." She said in way of explanation, careful to keep her tone neutral.

He sensed her discomfort and quickly handed back her ticket. "Everything seems to be in order. Have a comfortable trip, mam."

As she slid the door closed behind her, Hermione felt her head throb slightly. She was asleep almost before she hit the couch.

_She stood in the middle of the ruins. She whirled, knowing something was very wrong, but somehow she didn't feel panicked at all. She knew this place. Someone was singing, a little girl?_

"_London bridge is falling down, falling down… falling down!" There was something important she needed to remember. What was it? It was on the tip of her tongue._

"_I… I…" She said aloud. What was it? Quickly, before the thought fled again. The stone floor was crumbling beneath her feet. Time's up. She was falling into darkness, strange runes and patterns swirled around her. _

When she awoke, Hermione felt strange. It was a most peculiar feeling, almost as if the world around her was slowing down. She felt out of place, then the absurdity of the feeling hit her and she giggled. She was in the wrong time, of course she was out of place.

Luckily for her, as part of the whole VIP room service, she was able to eat in the peace of her luxurious room. She spent the rest of the time watching the beautiful grass scenery speed past her window and contemplated what the future would bring. When the bleary grey cobblestone of London finally rolled into view, Hermione was more than ready to leave.

The trek from central station to the gateway that led to Diagon Alley gave Hermione ample time to observe the world of the 1940s. To be fair, her mind was mostly focused on how to acquire a wand without any resources to call her own. What little muggle coin she had could not sustain her for long, and the goblins refused to trade currency between the two worlds. For the common witch or wizard, this hardly presented much of a problem, they could use their family name or even sign a contract to pay at a future date. With a small interest rate, of course. Unfortunately, Hermione could not afford to do such a thing. Not only had she popped out of nowhere, quite literally in her case, she had no identity at the Ministry of Magic. In essence, she was the equivalent of a foreign fugitive.

Biting her lips nervously, she made a small side trip to purchase a hooded cloak. This severely depleted her funds and Hermione knew she could not afford to fail in acquiring a wand. For the first time since being dropped in this strange and foreign time, the twenty one year old woman in a fourteen year old body felt completely and utterly alone. Even if she was willing to risk revealing herself to Dumbledore, which she was not, she didn't even have the money to do so.

_Thwack. _She slapped herself firmly on both cheeks. "Come on Hermione, this is no time to dawdle around. You've a world to set right and a timeline to fix, what is this compared to that?"

The gateway wasn't very impressive at all. In fact, it was a strange coincidence that nearly every entrance that led to the wizarding world was in fact disguised as a rather mundane and uninteresting place. The Leaky Cauldron's back alley, which was a rather obvious dead end to anyone passing by, the fake wall between platform 9 and 10 in the central station, and the phone booth that descended into the MoM were all prime examples of the poor architecture of gateways. This one was no different. A broken and run down building loomed ahead, twisted metal jutting out of concrete at broke angles made for a rather dour sight. Shivering ever so slightly, Hermione banished the memories of a broken Hogwarts into the back of her mind. Now was not the time for such reminiscing. The actual door was charmed with a simple muggle repelling ward and Hermione located it rather quickly. Pulling her hood up, she breathed deeply and plunged through the broken wooden door.

Around her, the illusion wavered as she passed, so quick that she barely registered the flicker of magic and then suddenly she was standing at the edge of a bustling metropolitan street brimming with wizards and witches wearing diverse assortments of colorful cloaks. Whereas her grey cloak had caused a small stir in the muggle society, as people cast furtive glances of disapproval in her direction, here she garnered nothing.

She navigated the cobble steps of Diagon Alley, feeling her chest constrict in her chest at the beautifully familiar sight. Oh certainly there were major differences, the road was much rougher than her memories indicated and the signs were all rather blocky and the writing hardly the flowing scripts that she recalled. Flourish and Blott's book store was replaced with Cardigan's Archives, and the potion store whose name always eluded her simple didn't exist. Instead, a candy store of all things stood in its place, with bright and colorful candy displayed in an artistic swirl that shifted and alternated colors in a slow hypnotic sequence. But it was the atmosphere that struck her the most, and brought back a fierce pang of nostalgia that threatened to overwhelm her. How long ago had she set foot in a haven such as this? Too long.

Hermione didn't know how long she stood there, gazing but not seeing, entranced by dual overlapping visions of the Diagon Alley before her and the one in her mind's library. Eventually, she was broken out of her reverie as a person roughly barged past her and in the process nearly sending her tumbling onto the ground. The middle-aged man gave her an angry stare, but seeing as her face was covered by the cloak, he only deigned her with another condescending glare before departing as abruptly as he had entered through the gateway. His silver hair strongly reminded her of the Malfoys, who had a genetic predisposition for silvery white hair and she would have bet what little money she had left that the man was a Malfoy. Apparently, some things simply didn't change over time, she mused wryly to herself. Still, she had been blocking the entry way and perhaps he had been having a bad day? Chuckling at the absurdity of the situation, Hermione departed for Ollivander's wand shop.

The tinkle of the bell as she pushed the door open made her smile beneath her cloak. She looked around, seeing no one at the front desk, but that was to be expected. She wandered in a little further, gazing at the piles upon piles of wands stacked in the shelves behind the counter with no small amount of awe. The art of wandmaking was both intricate and difficult, and in another life Hermione would have loved to learn more about them. Alas, all knowledge pertaining to the craftsmanship of them had been irrevocably destroyed during the war.

"Such a travesty," she murmured softly to herself. "Scientia potentia est." Her senses tingled and she felt a presence on her left side, slightly past her peripheral vision and in her blindspot. She tilted her head and caught sight of an elderly man with a monacle. So that certainly disproved the theory that Ollivander had been an immortal wandmaker who had been there since 382 B.C. Ron and Harry had been firmly convinced that Ollivander had been a vampire, but she had always been sceptical of those rumors. And now, she had actual proof.

"... Help you?" She managed to catch the tail end of the sentence, having been lost in her thoughts. His quietness certainly didn't help matters any.

"I didn't quite catch that." She replied somewhat bashfully. Hermione suppressed the urge to fidget as the old man fixed her with a piercing gaze.

"Lost in thought, eh?" He chuckled softly. "Not to worry, I know all about that." He winked at her and Hermione felt a small smile tug at her lips at his casual attitude. "Now, how may I help you?"

"I require a wand." She spoke and hesitated slightly.

"Well," The old man said jovially. "You have certainly come to the right place."

"Unfortunately, I do not have any means to purchase the wand." She continued, her voice betraying nothing.

The white haired elder slowly lost his smile. "That is a rather unfortunate circumstance. But I can certainly write up a contract…"

Hermione shook her head. "No. For reasons I cannot divulge to you, I am unable to reveal my identity."

Ollivander was openly frowning now. "I'm afraid there is very little I can do for you. While I understand how important it is to have a working wand for a wizard, I cannot afford to tarnish my well-earned reputation."

Hermione felt her heart skip a beat. "I am willing to accept a private contract with a higher interest rate." She knew what his answer was even before he opened his mouth.

"I'm afraid," He said slowly, "I simply cannot do something like this. This is not Knockturn Alley, where such things can be negotiated. I cannot sell a wand to someone _on the side_. Such a thing violates the very principles this shop was created to uphold." His voice was cool now, and Hermione could feel her chances of convincing him evaporate like the morning dew under the sun's heat.

"Please…" She was cut off as he raised a hand.

"I must insist. Either you reveal who you are and show a legal certification that proves you are who you say you are or leave my shop. I do not know why you seek to protect your identity, but I cannot trust your words alone. My wands are registered with the ministry, and I will not sell to anyone who does not have a legal identification." He looked at her distrustfully, and Hermione felt her heart sink.

She had been hoping to avoid such an outcome, but she had been too naive in thinking that the wandmaker would be sympathetic to her plight. Especially when she could not even reveal herself to him. So diplomacy had failed, what was left now? She seriously considered threatening him, and although her wandless magic was inefficient and nearly useless in terms of combat, she could still bluff with them.

"Are you certain you will not reconsider?" Her voice was calm, but there was an edge to it now. "I am willing to negotiate any interest rate."

The old man narrowed his eyes. "You will not find me so foolish. I do not care for money, such things are nothing compared to the hard earned reputation that my family cultivated throughout the years."

"Then I will take a wand by force." She hissed out, and manifested her magical aura.

For wizards and witches, seventeen was the majority age where their magical cores matured. This meant they would be able to manifest them in order to aid them in combat. The stronger the aura, the more spells it could automatically shield and a fully manifested aura could also further enhance spells cast. There was no leakage, unlike the still growing core of a wizard or witch before their majority age. Although there were no official ranks, it was still recognized that certain wizards and witches had more powerful cores. Some auras were so powerful they took on secondary traits. There was a reason Voldemort was referred to as a Dark Lord. His aura was menacing and poisonous, corrupting all that it touched and infecting them with decay and death. Dumbledore's aura by contrast purified and eroded matter like rust on metal. Both were destructive, but in different ways. Harry's aura slowed things around him, allowing him to be a very powerful duelist with an insane reaction speed. Hermione's aura burned like fire, devouring everything around her and granting her a slight affinity to any spell linked to the element of fire.

Ollivander's eyes widened in fear and surprise as he felt the heat and power explode from the diminutive frame of the cloaked stranger with the suddenness of a lightning bolt.

"I will ask one last time." She raised her hand and the heat noticeably increased a degree. The very air was becoming super heated and the nearby paper began to smolder every so slightly. "Will you sell me a wand?" Hermione's voice was sharp and her question was more a command than anything.

The old man took a step back, fear evident in his eyes as he felt his wards beginning to strain under the sheer weight and magnitude of the aura being manifested in front of him. He had only ever felt such overbearing power twice in his long life, once by a necromancer whom he had the misfortune of crossing in his early travels abroad and the second when he had witnessed the finals between Albus Dumbledore and Filius Flitwick, two of the greatest duelists he had ever had the privilege to see.

"I…" He gulped as he choked on the hot air that rushed into his lungs. "I will not." He knew he was effectively signing his death contract, but he could not jeopardize the work of his family line. Had he been younger, perhaps he would have folded, but his son would soon succeed him and there was no way he would leave a tainted legacy behind. Death over shame. He closed his eyes.

Hermione felt her last hope dwindle away and she bowed her head. "So be it." She retracted her aura and walked over to the entrance. "I'm sorry." And she left, feeling tears of anger, shame and disappointment well in her eyes.

Ollivander slid, his legs too wobbly to support his weight and he sat on the soft carpet of his shop and pondered what had just happened. "_Ha_. _Ha_." He laughed the laugh of a man who had just escaped a close shave with death, disbelief tinged with hysteria. Slowly, he clambered to his feet and walked over to his fire place. Out of respect for her mercy, he would not report the incident to the MoM. That much at least he could afford, but just in case she was a rising Dark Lord, he would warn his friends and see what counter measures would be put in place. The wizarding world could ill afford another Dark Lord and if her aura had been any indication of her strength, she was a threat of the highest degree.

Outside, a few blocks away in a side alley that led to a dead end, Hermione leaned against the wall. Apparently, her body could not handle that amount of energy discharge and she was now suffering the recoil effects of unleashing a fully matured aura with an immature core. It was an interesting paradox, seeing how she possessed both. A byproduct of her time travel, and it was this sheer fluke that saved her from imploding right there in Ollivander's shop. Still, the recoil made her feel like she had just ran a marathon. There were stars at the edges of her vision, and her head throbbed under the assault of a migraine the sort you get after a night of heavy drinking. Her muscles were tender and sore, and her extremities felt numb and tingly.

"That was very silly of me," She gasped out as she slid down the wall and passed out.

When she came to, she felt considerably better. Her muscles no longer ached and her headache was completely gone. There were still some tender spots and she could not breathe too deeply for fear of pain, which most likely meant her lungs had been slightly burned by her aura. The sun had also set by now, and the evening sky was a beautiful shade of ultramarine dotted with the bright white of stars. The half moon hung across the sky, clear and brilliant and pale, illuminating the world below with her stark white light. Sighing, Hermione pushed herself to her feet. Never before had she been so acutely aware of just how alone she was. No friends. Not a single person alive or dead in this world who could help her. She had nothing to turn to, and no haven to flee to. Her chest ached, and she knew it wasn't from physical pain, but despite her bravado at claiming she needed no one, she knew very well it was a lie. Nobody could survive alone, and remain sane.

How had things come to this? Just a few days ago, everything was going right. For once she looked forward to the future and what it would bring. It wasn't perfect, but compared to where she was now it seemed like heaven. She chuckled bitterly at her weakness. Hermione knew exactly whose fault it was, Harry had known the moment he laid eyes on the wand that it was trouble. But her curiosity and desire to unravel the nature of things overwhelmed her common sense. She thought she was so smart, and when the truth had outed itself, it had taken her future with it. After an indeterminate amount of time, she cleared her mind of thoughts. Grief and pain, loss and despair, she let it all go. _Enough self-pity. Now is not the time to give up, as long as the wand exists, you can still get home. _

"One last option." She knew it was a bad idea, but in her current situation, there was little she could do. She was simply going to have to risk it. Despite the lack of lighting, she navigated through the streets of Diagon Alley nearly perfectly. She had bled and fought in the shattered ruins so many times that it was nigh impossible for her to get lost. Eventually, she descended into the lower levels of the alley and the amount of wizards and witches noticeably decreased. This was the entrance to Knockturn Alley, the other side of the coin. It was also the only other place she could acquire a wand. But first, she needed to get information, and for that she needed money. She entered the pawnshop nearby and showed him the bracelet Alan had given her.

"Hm…" He turned it over in his hand and nodded to himself. "Five sickles."

Hermione said nothing and waited. Eventually, the man grimaced and shrugged. "Fine, five sickles and 20 knuts."

"I want seven sickles even and a contract that will allow me to buy it back within a week from now." Hermione made sure to make her voice sound cool and emotionless, giving away absolutely nothing.

The pawnshop owner was a short stubby man, scarred and tough looking with a crooked gait. Clearly he had been in plenty of fights and had received the short end of the stick multiple times. He looked at the charm, then at her cloaked figure and grunted. "_Six_ sickles. No more than that. And I'll give you the contract for this thing at fifteen percent for the week."

Hermione shook her head. "Seven percent flat interest rate. four day period, six sickles."

"Deal," His grin was a tad too sharp and Hermione had a sneaking suspicion he did not intend to return the bracelet.

"If I come back and find that you have misplaced this item," Hermione said calmly and emotionlessly, "I will rip you limb from limb until you beg me for a swift death." Her eyes shone through the dark of her cloak and she let a tiny tendril of her aura flicker around her. The temperature jumped a degree instantly. The slight widening of his pupils told her it had gotten through to him.

"Ya threatening me?" He barked out roughly, but there was a tiny wobble in the tone of his voice and Hermione smiled viciously. He might not be able to see her, but he would be able to feel it.

"No," she purred out softly. "That is a _promise_." He shivered visibly and she slowly raised her hand from under her cloak. "Do we have a deal?"

The slender limb contrasted heavily with her weight of presence, but the balding man was thoroughly convinced she was not someone he wanted to trifle with. "Aye, we have a deal."

The key to brute force negotiation, was to never utter more than one threat. Too often people tried to reinforce their threats by pressing or reminding the issue, but that was actually counterproductive. The right amount of pressure applied once properly was sufficient. So Hermione said nothing else, only looking over the contract and pointing out places where she wanted the wording to be changed and when it was written to her satisfaction, she took the paper and the money and left. Not a single reminder of her threat, it was almost as if it had never happened. But the shop owner breathed a sigh of relief as the door swung closed and he carefully tucked the bracelet away. It was imperative in his line of business to identify whether a person fit the profile of a mark before pulling a scam off, and his senses were telling him very vocally that she was not worth the risk. He would take his free money when the time came.

Hermione slid into seedy bar, having bribed the guard outside with five knuts when he asked her to lower her hood to check her age. She really had to thank Harry for showing her how to illuminate her eyes with her aura. It looked impressive and worked extremely well as an intimidation tactic. The barman approached her, and raised an eyebrow in question. People tended to talk very little around here, as loose lips were the sure way to sink any network.

"I am looking for a very special mead." Hermione spoke in a soft and low tone. She slid a full sickle across the wooden counter as the barman leaned in, his interest peaked by the silver coin. "I'm looking for a loan shark. Preferably someone reputable who is willing to cut some corners." The man nodded and took her sickle and left. Hermione waited patiently, eventually the barman came back with a mug full of mead with a napkin tucked underneath. He nodded to her and left. She discreetly sipped her drink, grimacing at the sugary aftertaste mixed with the tang of alcohol. On her napkin, written in a loopy script were two names. "Locke's Bakery." And below it, "Mr. Santoro." She smiled beneath her hood and set the drink down. It seemed the seedy underworld still responded the same to bribery, something that had not changed over the years. If anything, it was more discreet and easier in the 40s compared to her time. As she left the bar, Hermione gave the bartender a small nod, the movement so slight under the hood that it was barely a twitch. Somehow he caught sight of it and dipped his head in response.

The bakery was located a little ways from the main Knockturn Alley roads and looked for all purposes exactly like a bakery store. However, the moment she walked in Hermione knew she was in the right place. No bakery would need this many people working in it, and there were at least four people visible from the entrance, each working at a station. They seemed engrossed by their work, but as she walked in, she noticed they all focused on her discreetly. Two women, wearing aprons watched her out of the corner of their eyes, following her every movement. An elder man, looking to be around his thirties, dressed in a chef's clothes looked to be dozing beside the oven, but Hermione noticed that one of his eyes was lidded and his breathing wasn't perfectly even. The last of the workers was a young man, barely out of his teens, still long limbed and gangly with short black hair and thin features. His nose had clearly been broken at least once. He was the one who looked at her and twitched when he took in her hooded cloak, and she smirked to herself. He was a greenhorn still. Perfect. She walked over to him her gait smooth and controlled, a dueler's prowl.

"I would like to speak with Mr. Santoro." She said it in enthusiastically, her voice and her height giving away she was only in her teens. The young man visibly scoffed and shook his head.

"Ain't nobody here named Mr. Santoro. I think you have the wrong place, little girl." He dismissed her and turned to his pastry station, but before he could turn away completely, Hermione spoke up again. "Oh but I must simply see Mr. Santoro!"

The teen rolled his eyes. "Get the fuck outta here, girl. I told you there ain't a Mr. Santoro here."

"I'm afraid I must… _insist on meeting Mr. Santoro_." She let her aura loose toward the end of her sentence and startled, the teen reacted instinctively and shot a bright white cutter at her. She sidestepped it easily and the spell kissed the hem of the robe as it grazed past her. "My, what an interesting choice of spell." Her voice dripped condescension and mockery, a well practiced drawl from all the times she had bantered with Bellatrix Black in the midst of their duels. Her eyes glowed a faint purple under her hood and the teen paled before her furious aura. The next time she spoke, her voice was like ice. "_Perhaps I should show you what a true bisection looks like._"

At this point the two witches had dropped all pretenses of baking and raised their wands at her. Before things could escalate, the chef stood in a swift motion and help out his hand.

"Stop." His voice carried the calm weight of authority and the three workers stilled from habit. "You've made your point. Follow me."

He walked over to counter and lifted a panel. Hermione slowly glided across, making sure her pace was even and unaffected. Beneath the hood, her heart pounded a staccato beat of excitement and desire. How long ago was it since her first brush with death when the mountain troll had somehow stumbled into the girl's lavatory? The thrill and rush of adrenalin through her system making her synapses snap to attention. She loved the way the world began to sharpen, to take on edge and her well honed magic responded to her will like a long forgotten skill.

Sometime ago when the war escalated beyond the small skirmishes between the order and the Dark Lord's followers, she had lost her inhibition against fighting and killing and began to appreciate the art of dueling. Not the slow, restricted duels between wizards and witches in a dueling competition where the goal was to showcase your expertise and skill, she was talking about the no holds barred death matches where a single mistake cost you your life. On a battlefield where you could die to anything, even a stray spell cast by an unblooded first year. Where any and all spells were used, from common household charms to the darkest of curses.

Even without a wand in her hands, Hermione's magic surged and danced beneath her skin like playful children, filling her with the sensation of an itch, but one she could not scratch. As she weaved around the counter, her face caught sight of the teenager who had sent the bisection hex and she bared her teeth at him in a ferocious smile. While he could not see her, he could feel the intent as clear as day. It was further exacerbated by her aura's restlessness. The black haired youth shivered and squirmed, his wand still trained on her. The hand trembled ever so slightly. Hermione felt a giggle well inside her. Here she was, without a wand at hand and wandering into the den of one of the most notorious loan shark in all of Knockturn Alley and she was intending to negotiate everything and everyone of a bluff. She turned away, and breathed deeply to rid herself of the intense rush of sensations. Her mind cleared and she followed the chef into the kitchen.

There was a small set of stairs that led them up to a very cozy living room. An elegant door barred the way inside and the chef turned to her, his eyes serious. "In order to enter, you must swear a minor oath of non-aggression."

It was standard procedure, since you could not ask a wizard or witch to relinquish their wands, a minor oath on non-aggression would prevent any assassins, mind wiped or not, from entering. The difference between minor and major oaths was the use of one's name. A minor oath did not require such and would only cause temporary pain and weakness should the oath be broken. A major oath bound you to your name and could cause anything from permanent paralysis to the loss of your magic depending on the stakes.

Hermione hesitated. While she could give the oath and pretend it bound her, it would avail her more if she gave the truth. "Such an oath would be meaningless to me." She held a hand when the man stiffened and went for his wand.

"Peace. I merely state the truth. No minor oath could ever bind me, my magic would simply snap it the moment I tried." It was a side-effect from having such a potent aura. Nothing short of a major oath could bind her and even then there were some that would fail.

"I see you do not believe me. Very well, let me demonstrate. _I swear by the six that I mean no harm to anyone within this establishment._" The ambient magic around her began to stir and swirl around her, excited by her words of intent.

"_By the six, I accept this oath by as guardian of this establishment._" The chef declared in a low stern tone.

The magic tried to bind her, but Hermione's magic snapped back. _**Mine.**_ The ambient magic dissipated, rebuffed by her potent will. Only a major oath using her own magic as contract could bind her. "Will you accept my entry even without a binding oath? I did not come seeking harm on anyone, I assure you. I have no need for deception to mask my intentions." Her voice was calm and soft, but the chef had already gone for his wand at her words.

"I am afraid I cannot allow you entry, Madam." His eyes narrowed and a slow bead of sweat trickled the side of his face. His magic told him that he was outclassed, by a considerable amount and for the first time he began to regret bringing her up here. Still, decorum was decorum and he would not strike first unless she made the first move.

Before Hermione could speak, the door clicked open. A young boy, no older than thirteen smiled disarmingly at the two of them. His blond hair was immaculate and his boyish features were fashioned into a cute smile that would have lowered anyone's guard. His clothes were smooth and wrinkle-free, clearly made from excellent material and his well-polished shoes glistened under the dim light of a nearby lamp. Had it not been his eyes that gleamed like two ruby crystals, he would have seemed exactly like any other rich pre-teen child.

"Now, now. There's no need for violence, Stuart." The chef straightened and bowed his head. "As you wish, Mr. Santoro."

"Come in, come in." The blond waved at Hermione. His voice was light and cheerful, a child's carefree lilt. Hermione gave a wry smile beneath her hood. How interesting.

"Shall I…?" The blond cut him off with a shake of his head. "No. Relax, it is as the lady claimed. We would have known already if she wanted to assassinate me. Besides, we've already had our monthly quota of assassins. If she truly belonged to one of my enemies who wanted me dead," here the child gave her an exaggerated look over and grinned. "I think I would not be long for the world."

"You flatter me." Hermione replied dryly, but her voice carried an undertone of amusement.

"Hmph. Modest too." He snorted. It looked very out of place coming from a child and almost made her chuckle. "Come, let us talk further inside." He turned around and skipped through the doors. Hermione walked past the still bowing Stuart and through the beautifully crafted door. This close, she could see the art on the wooden panels depicted a tree, with an enlarged apple carved on one of the many branches of the tree. Beneath the trunk of the tree a serpent slithered, and she could see two tiny rubies in place of its eyes.

The door closed behind her as Hermione cast her eyes over the room. Two bookshelves lined either side of the door, and rows upon rows of books adorned them. Her eyes caught several titles, and she recognized a few of them from the library at Hogwarts. Rare and exotic titles in different languages, latin among them also peaked her interest. Mr. Santoro climbed onto a raised chair behind an elegant and wide wooden desk. A ink stand sat on the left, a fancy eagle plume quill stuck into it, and a dozen or so parchment rolls lined the right side.

"So." The child grinned at her mischievously. "What do you think?" Behind him, the wall curved slightly outward, but Hermione barely noticed it as she caught sight of the incredible painting. It was magnificent, depicting a war between angels and demons. The angels were adorned with white wings and golden halos and came in from the top left side of the wall. They wielded swords or all assortments and their faces were as regal as any proud nobility. In direct opposition, demons painted with crimson bearing black horns that writhed and twisted in curls burst from the lower right. The colors contrasted against each other and created a brilliant dichotomy. The child sat exactly in the middle of the two factions and the lighting of the room further enhanced his position, and gave him twin shadows that stretched to both sides of the painting.

"Very intimidating." Hermione was suitably impressed, but tried to hide it behind a monotone. _Even though I know he is doing it on purpose, I can't help but be slightly intimidated. I can't believe I thought I could bluff him… no… I can't let doubt get a foothold here. _She took a deep breath and stilled her thoughts. _Focus. This is a business exchange, get the money, try to get a good interest rate and get out. Once I get my wand, everything will work out. _

"Excellent." His grin widened and he folded both hands together before him. "I must admit I was most curious when I heard from some _acquaintances _that there was a young woman looking for me in quite a few notorious bars. So I wasn't entirely surprised when you paid me a visit." He fidgeted, exactly as a child would and sat back, putting his hands behind his head. "I admit, you were not what I expected." _Sixteen? Seventeen? Her voice sounds like she is barely out of her teens. She must be using a false voice, my wards strip away disguises using potions and runes, so she must be using muggle technology. I can think of no other way, but that is ingenious by itself. So few wizards expect muggle technology. _He smirked to himself internally. _Unfortunately for her, I'm not one of them._

"So." Hermione parroted his earlier gleeful tone. "What do you think?"

He raised an eyebrow at her, his crimson eyes glittering in amusement. "Very intimidating." He drawled out in a high pitched girly voice.

"Hmph."

He giggled at her, and for a second Hermione almost forgot who it was before her. Then his eyes opened and twin pools of ruby stared back, and Hermione raised her guard again. "Now," He murmured softly, ancient eyes piercing through the veil of darkness that hid her identity with an ease that made her more than a little nervous. "What brings a witch of your caliber to my humble abode?"

Hermione slowly raised her hands and lowered the hood of her cloak, her brown hair falling in loose coils around her face which settled in an expression of neutral passivity. She lowered her head while taking the hood off so she missed his stunned expression. By the time she looked up, he looked as impassive as before.

"It is truly a shame to hide such beauty like yours beneath a veil of darkness." _Impossible. She can't be more than fifteen. Unbelievable. _He hid his shock, veiling it with a complement to distract her. _I've been in this line of work for a very long time now. I pride myself on being an excellent judge of character. But this is something that goes beyond anything I have experienced before. It can't be a mere accident, my AMED detector was recently acquired, the odds of it malfunctioning today of all days is a statistical impossibility. Still, it doesn't hurt to check if she really can manifest her aura._

Her lips twitched in amusement, but otherwise gave nothing away. "I'm here to request a loan of money."

"Oh?" A puzzled look came over his face. He hesitated before furrowing his brows in confusion. "I would not have thought you in financial distress, given your immense _skill_." He said the last delicately, injecting enough disdain to raise her ire. He even raised an eyebrow, taunting her subtly. Just enough to annoy her, but not enough for her to construe a rejection.

Hermione narrowed her eyes and her aura flared around her protectively. "Is that a no?" She asked quietly, uncertain and more than a little worried. _If things go wrong, I'm not sure I will be able to make it out unscathed… I really hope that doesn't happen..._

"No, not at all." He waved his hands to placate her. "I merely profess to be somewhat surprised, it is exceedingly rare to find a wizard or witch of your caliber in need of money. Especially at your tender age, one would think your guardians would be more than happy to support you?" He smiled softly, reassuring her she misunderstood, but internally he was swearing up a storm. _Well, that confirms it. Her aura was nearly tangible and I could see her eyes light up from the sheer intensity. I know four wizards and one witch capable of doing such thing. Nearly all of them are older than two centuries, and I know they would not try to prank me like this. Who is she? Who is her guardian? What I would give to know their identity. Out of all the people I know, only a handful could keep such talent hidden away. I have a hunch I may know who her guardians are. But it does raise the question why she is here, and for money no less, it doesn't add up. Besides, _he mused softly, tapping his fingers against his rosewood table, _her aura is different from theirs. _He sniffed discretely, and his enhanced senses noted the subtle temperature change. _Heat, fire and ash. A very unique blend, certainly not one of the many I know. _He felt a bubble of excitement well inside his stomach. This. Was. So. Interesting. Quickly, he composed himself and gazed at the girl in front of him. He had to resist the urge to rub his hands in glee, _I do so love a good puzzle._

Hermione blushed at her misunderstanding and nervously folded her hands together in front of her. She tried to hide her embarrassment, but from his knowing grin she knew she wasn't doing a very good job of it. _Well, I might not be very good at this negotiating tactic, but I can't give in now. At least I'm doing better than Ron and Harry. _She resisted the urge to giggle at the thought.

"Very well, how much are we talking about?" He asked at last when the moment faded and both of them regained their composure. _It must be a particularly large sum of money owed to a very powerful party if they are capable of putting such pressure on someone as powerful as her. And to come to me instead of another noble family, do I dare risk the ire of her enemies? And if my assumption is correct, whoever the mysterious party is they do not fear her guardians either. Do they have a hostage of sorts? Or am I sticking my nose in something much much larger? I am no coward, but even I am leery of poking such a foe. '__Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus.'_He mused to himself, tapping the table absentmindedly. _So much intrigue and questions swirl around her. What I would give to unravel this mystery. _He looked at her as she chewed her lips in thought. _She is so young, this is incredibly baffling. I..._

Meanwhile, Hermione tried to puzzle how much she wanted loaned to her. _How much should I ask for? Twenty galleons would be enough to afford a custom crafted wand and tide me over for at least a week, and I should be able to make that amount easily once I obtain my wand. But he might not be willing to loan out so little. Thirty galleons? I know an average wizard earns roughly three galleons a month… argh, I've never had to deal with this before. _She looked at the money lender, but he too seemed distracted by something and was deep in thought. _I'll double it and hope it's not too much. _"Forty galleons." She said decisively. _That should be more than enough to cover my expenses for a long while, and I can definitely pay…_

She was cut off as the child vampire abruptly burst into laughter. Her heart skipped a beat and for a second she thought she had asked for too much. But then she realized his laughter was not filled with scorn or mockery, but pure mirth. She felt awkward and embarrassed as the loan shark laughed so hard he was almost crying. As the moment stretched on, she felt a surge of anger coil inside her. Was he mocking her after all?

The blond vampire shook his hand as he felt her aura spike in agitation, but he was unable to speak for fear of bursting into laughter again. He looked at his bookshelf, determined not to look at her expression of complete confusion which he knew would make him laugh again. "Forty galleons. Are you sure that is all you need?" He managed to choke out at last. _That's the third time I've had my preconceptions shattered. I think… I don't know what to think… Who is she?_

"Yes." Hermione answered stiffly, still wary and confused. The young child seemed disinterested now, looking around the room while he tapped his fingers against the table. Had she asked for too little? But forty galleons was the equivalent of a small fortune, and not something most people could barter away on a whim. "Unless you are willing to loan me fifty?" She added hesitantly, not sure what she was going anymore.

By now, after a studious examination of everything in the room that was not the impossible puzzle sitting in front of him, he had regained his composure. He turned to look at her, shoving the desire to laugh and laugh until he could laugh no more into a small corner of his mind. His stomach twinged at the effort, but he bore through it with an iron will. Centuries worth of carefully honed control over his emotions locked down his shock and amazement and shuffled them away for later. _Is it possible that she is playing me? For whatever reason, I cannot fathom. But forty galleons? No. I can detect no lies from her and even were it the case she has fooled my wards with an impregnable disguise, I fail to see what she is getting out of this. If she truly intended to rob me… No… Forty galleons would not be the way. In fact, the sheer absurdity of the situation leads me to believe she is genuinely requesting that little. After all, once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth. _

"Allow me to offer a counter-proposal." He smiled enigmatically, and Hermione fought down the urge to fidget at his almost predatory gaze. Those blood red eyes seemed to pierce through her flimsy veil of disguise almost as easily as a knife through butter. _Calm down Hermione. It's impossible that he knows you don't have a wand. Relax, breathe, don't panic. Clearly you should have just said fifty from the start. Forty was too little. At least he seems interested now. _

"However, before I do, I would like you to answer a question." He paused for a second, and the tension in the room increased by several magnitudes. "I am a cautious person, and I find myself asking why a person of your fortitude would come to me for help. If I agree to lend you the sum of … fifty galleons… I would not be making any enemies out of anyone, now would I?"

Hermione blinked in confusion. _Enemies? What does he mean? Oh. Oh! I see… he fears that someone is extorting me and that his help would somehow embroil him in the feud. _"No. I have no enemies. My desire is purely monetary and I seek only a simple transaction without any strings attached." It was the truth. The blond nodded softly, as if she was confirming something he already suspected. _Somehow, _Hermione thought to herself, _I don't think I could get away with lying to him. Even half-truths are dangerous. He is dangerous. Maybe… Maybe he is just an exception? But then again, perhaps all loan sharks are as deadly as this. Their reputation is well-earned, it seems. _

_I sense she spoke the truth. Besides, if someone were really extorting her for forty galleons, they must be an imbecile of the highest degree. Who would be willing to have her as an enemy for a measly forty galleons? Ridiculous. It's time I did a little digging of my own. But first, the matter of the loan. _He scratched his head and tried to think of a way he could pull this off. _The difficulty is in attracting her attention and arousing her interest. She might not wish for any strings, but I'm afraid I am not going to let her walk out of my life so easily as she walked in. I've lived for over five centuries and I have never seen anyone so confusing and out of place as her. Naive, but powerful. Intelligent, but rash. Confident, but wary. She's a walking paradox and out of all the loan sharks she could have borrowed from, she walked through my door. _He fought the urge to rub his hands together and laugh. Too cliched. _Game on._

"I will write you a letter of patronage lasting until such time as I deem it no longer needed, allowing access to a private fund that should be more than enough to cover any expenses you might incur. You withdraw any amount you wish, provided you do not exceed a total of five hundred galleons. My letter will allow you access from any bank or lender, legitimate or otherwise, on this side of the channel. Such is my reputation." He grinned proudly at her. "Gringotts will also adhere to my request, and should you wish to withdraw the money legally, you will be allowed to."

Hermione was taken aback and wary now. _If something is too good to be true..._ "That is a very generous offer…" He raised a hand to stall any protest.

"I understand your hesitation, but allow me to finish." She closed her mouth. "In exchange, I will request a favor from you." He paused here, noting her narrowed eyes and pursed lips. The room temperature also seemed to have increased several degrees. "You may refuse any request you do not wish to do. I assure you, I have no wish to gain your ire." He gazed at her intensely. "I understand you want a clean and simple contract, but I am afraid I cannot do that."

Hermione thought over his terms, a puzzled look on her face. "I can refuse any request I wish?" He nodded and confirmed. "Any."

"And you will not force the issue?" She asked dryly. "I won't find agents under your employ trying to convince me I should do the request?"

He chuckled at this. "As I said, I have no intention of making you an enemy. In fact, I wish to gain your friendship." His ruby eyes glinted with an emotion she could not identify. "I swear to you, I have no desire to chain you to me in any way whatsoever. The friendship I offer is not one born from a contract nor does it come with any clauses."

He folded his hands and leaned forward, peering at her sharply. "You do not trust me because you do not know me. This is true for both of us. But I would like to get to know you better, and I find myself in a position where we can both get what we want. I understand that you have reservations about people in my line of work," he smiled mischievously. "But I ask only that you take a gamble and bet on me being an exception to the rule." He slowly raised his hand out to her. "If you accept, I will write the letter of patronage. Should you refuse, I will simply lend you the fifty galleons at the standard Gringotts interest rates indefinitely." He finished quietly, hand extended. "Do you accept my proposal?"

Hermione made no move to shake his hand. _I … I wish I could understand why he is doing this. I know I should refuse his proposal, the latter option gives me everything I want and more. Once I pay him back, there would be nothing tying me to him and his organization. But I cannot tell if he is genuinely interested in becoming my friend or if he is intending to manipulate me. Argh… are all money lenders so infuriating? Aren't they supposed to be greedy, manipulative and selfish? Instead, he is charismatic, intelligent and enigmatic. _She closed her eyes and concentrated. _My head tells me no. My heart says yes. My head says my heart doesn't exist and I'm being greedy. No is the right choice. No is the safe choice. No is the wise choice. _

Hermione stood abruptly. The vampire waited patiently, his expression still one of neutral curiosity.

"Yes. I accept." She took his hand and shook it. _This is going to end badly… maybe. _

"Excellent." He purred. "Please call me Ikarus… Miss?"

"Hermione. A pleasure to meet you." She grinned back. _Too late now, what's done is done. _

"The pleasure was all mine."

**So that's a wrap. Please review! **

**Wait. Does reverse psychology work here? **

**DON'T REVIEW! NO. I TAKE IT BACK. **

**Do review. **


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